Ouch, and--OW! GODS!
by EmmaLennyEddie
Summary: When Hiccup found that Nightfury in the woods, it wasn't feeling very merciful that day. (cover image by me)
1. Chapter 1

_"A dragon will always,_ always _...go for the kill._ "

Principled words, unfortunately, would never be heard aloud by the ears of the one who needed them most.

It was Hiccup, the heir of Berk, who would never have the privilege of taking these precious words of advice into account as he used his trusty dagger to cut into the ropes withholding the dangerous wild animal, namely, the infamous adversary of Berk: the Nightfury.

The large emerald eyes that belonged to said Nightfury, inundated with hate, distrust, and an instinctive drive to kill, and shield itself as any wounded animal would, bore into the small human with a ravenous expression that would send any other creature to cower in fear. But the human was no longer paying attention to the eyes; the eyes that belonged to the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself: a sleek, ravened beast with the ferocity that could only be topped by its own species.

While raiding the inestimable mammals' homes and food stores for the Alpha, it hadn't expected to be shot down by a shooting projectile, _nor_ did it expect its life to be in the hands of one of the human younglings of the flock. It was disgusted. Here it was, a feared beast rendered useless by the tiniest human he'd ever seen.

Why was it, he wondered, that human creatures allowed their young to participate in such activities as battle when they could be safe in their strange burrows? Why risk a generation of flock-mates while there were hardier warriors at the ready?

Disgraceful, he demeaned as he stared at the tiny creature. For a moment, he almost felt pity toward it, but he shook himself back into reality. As far as he knew, the younglings could be equally strong if not _stronger_ than their sires. They were smaller, which meant they were quicker and sneakier while their elders were worn out and weakened by previous battles. This particular youngling was no exception to that statistic of the whole exhausting enterprise.

A momentous decision led the dragon to finalize that if he escaped, he would dispose of the human immediately. And why not? One less little pest to deal with, he reasoned as the ropes went loose. One less obstacle to overcome in order to feed the Alpha he defended as they fell. He growled again when he felt the ropes containing his wings disparage at last.

...

It wasn't until after the last of the ropes had fallen uselessly to the side that Hiccup had time to scream, run, or even back away. But the Nightfury had leapt from its pratfall before then and stole the chance.

The scaly, extended paw forcefully shoved the boy backwards and mercilessly slammed him into a nearby boulder with marvelous strength, pinning him shortly after. Hiccup's breath hitched when the back of his skull cracked against the rock, his breath hitching at the force of impact and his mouth opening in a silent scream.

Pixies swam before his emerald eyes and it took a few good seconds for his puzzled mind to process what was happening. By the time it did, the claws had moved to his neck in a sort of chokehold.

Once the human was firmly entrapped beneath the reptile, it growled dangerously, the garishly razor-sharp teeth bore in a grizzly sneer.

Hiccup blinked once, twice, and whimpered after he tried and failed to move.

He was trapped, he realized with forthcoming horror. He was honest-to-Gods _trapped_ , completely at the mercy of his people's greatest enemy in the middle of the forest, with nobody around to help him.

Regret instantly overtook his mind as his fingers reached for his dagger, which was just out of reach, sunk to the hilt in the soft earth. Oh, why hadn't he finished the job when he had the chance? Why hadn't he RUN?

" _Help,"_ he thought weakly, and then with more force when the dragon inhaled his scent, " _H-Help_...!"

Horrible images of being eaten alive followed suit of his hysteria and he coughed. The scaly grip around his tender throat was tightening with each passing second. Was the beast planning to suffocate him to death? Quite the dismal way to go, but he'd rather meet his maker quietly rather than the outrageously gory deaths other dragons displayed to his poor fellow villagers.

The gears in his mind, understandably befuddled with thoughts of squeamish death trials, whirred frantically to hatch an escape plan, all the while attempting to maneuver the dragon's paw off of him with his own shaky hands.

It was a little too late, he miserably decided, to play dead. Besides, those large intelligent eyes hinted that this particular dragon might be grouped as a far more astute blazon of his reptilian counterparts. He doubted that he could fool them with a petty act.

His best bet was removing the paw from his jugular and making a quick break for the thick tree line, which wasn't far off. That way, the thicket would slow the dragon. But as far as actually getting the paw off of him...

"Grk..." Hiccup croaked, his lips adopting a frightening shade of blue from the abridgment of oxygen. His eyes rolled upward to display the whites. "N-Nuh...ughhh..."

The Nightfury growled in disgust at the feeling of mammalian fingertips clutching his scales, so he re-gripped the flesh with flourish so that the boy's paws fell from his own, and he _slammed_ the frail being against the boulder again. Quite caught up in its fury, the dragon purposely ignored the cracking noise emulated by the connection of flesh and rock, the pitiful yips, and the augmenting terror on said prey's face.

He made no ceremony of it. His mind was deprived of mercy or empathy. Whimpers from his prey did little to alter his drive to kill.

'This conniving little Viking,' he huffed, 'this monstrous, pathetic little _thing'_ was not in the interest of him. It squeaked, he noted in annoyance, and tried to wriggle out of his strong grasp, its tiny paws flailing uselessly, its fingernails scraping at the rough surface of the boulder, but he was held fast.

The dragon sniffed skeptically at the small, tensed human, and almost reared back in surprise after he had snuffled his way into the chestnut locks. The scent was familiar. He was sure that he got a whiff of it as he was soaring over the human's nest... Ah... He understood.

This, he realized with impending nervousness, was the human Alpha's offspring. His young. Should be really...? A quick side-to-side glance from the anxious dragon eased his squeamishness, and it took a deep inhale to make sure that there were no more humans present.

There weren't. The Alpha wasn't coming to protect its young. Too busy, or simply unaware of his young's whereabouts. Perhaps he was searching at this moment. Then he had better hurry.

The Nightfury turned back to the youngling with satisfaction and a determined resolve to finish what had to be done. It failed to take into account that the young human had technically set him free. Nothing. Not a scintilla of acknowledgement. His sharp claws pressed into the jugular of the young Viking, causing him to gasp and retch.

It was time.

"N-No! STOP!"

Hiccup screamed as the reptile's spare paw jammed into his diaphragm, effectively cutting off his vaporing air supply and temporarily disabling his ability to speak.

In the time it took for the young male to regain his breath, the dragon had angrily battered his pale face with the underside of its paw, much like a hungry cat would with a poor, befuddled mouse.

"NO!" Hiccup screamed after the last of the blows had ceased. "Somebody! Help me!"

Nervous that the human alpha would respond to the sounds of distress that its frightened young was emitting, the dragon let out a deafening roar to silence his prey, spittle and a rush of heated breath befalling it.

Hiccup screamed anyway, but this time from unbearable pain as the Nightfury opened his gaping maw and sunk his razor-blade teeth into his tender shoulder. He screamed deafeningly, resisting his entrapment by battering the dragon's scaly snout with all his might, or whatever he could muster with his scrawny hands. But to no avail did he succeed. The dragon only bit down harder.

"H-HELP ME! BY THE G-GODS, HELP ME!" He screamed, involuntarily arching his back as his body tried to retreat from the grip of this unwanted predator. His legs kicked out.

The dragon paused, almost as if considering his next move before sinking his teeth in deeper and shaking his head from side to side, tearing more layers of flesh and muscle, reaching the bone shortly after.

Absolute terror filled the boy's mind as the sound of tearing flesh and splintering bone reached his ears. Streams of crimson liquid, his own life essence, splattered against his face and chest, causing him to retch in disgust and shock.

"STOP IT! S-S-STOP IT!" He shrieked, kicking his legs out against the snout.

The dragon snarled as it tore deeper into the body. Thankfully, after what seemed like hours to Hiccup, the dragon pulled away from the torn mess that was formerly an appendage. The Nightfury licked its chops with its large pink tongue, trying to catch the drops of crimson liquid from the gleaming teeth. Its snout was splattered with blood.

Hiccup retched, letting out a choking sort of gasp as his wide eyes caught sight of the gut-wrenching wound. He choked again, and reached up with a trembling hand to prevent the maw from drawing nearer. His other hand reached to retrieve his dagger. Had he been uninjured, his train of thought could have pinpointed the fact that a dagger couldn't do much against this bloodthirsty creature. Perhaps if he aimed for the eyes, nose, tongue, or other sensitive areas, he could stall the beast long enough to make his escape.

But Hiccup wasn't able to do any of those things.

The dragon had noticed his hand flailing for the dagger, so now he only hoped to catch the boy's hand that desperately sought refuge.

" **GAAAAAAAAAAH!"** He screeched at the top of his lungs. "STOP IT STOP IT STOP STOP STOP-!"

The teeth sunk into his callused palm, emulating the most terrible pain Hiccup had ever felt in his life. In the midst of terror, his voice caught in his throat and his mouth fell open, resulting in a silent scream.

"..."

The fiery pain... It was a seemingly endless blaze, igniting at his digits as they were removed from his palm, and overtaking the length of his arm. The right half of his body adopted an augmenting throbbing sensation, while his poor shoulder remained torn, raw, bloody, and unresponsive.

The fangs crunched mercilessly into the phalanges of his hand, rendering them useless along with the metacarpals. The thin blue veins beneath his skin tore like forged wire, spurting his blood everywhere. Hiccup screamed with all his might, hopping that somebody would hear him, but it was futile. He was a good mile or two away from the village.

He couldn't see. He couldn't see anything beyond the red mist that swarmed the area and overtook his vision. He couldn't hear. He couldn't hear anything but the crunch of bones, the splatter of blood, the growls of the dragon, and his own screams. He wanted to be dreaming. He wanted this to be nothing but a graphic figment of his lurid imagination. He so desperately wanted to wake up any second in his bed to the scent of roasted salmon his father cooked for breakfast everyday.

His father... His father was right, he realized. His father had been right all along about his son. Hiccup was no dragon killer. He couldn't even defend himself when it mattered most.

"D-DAD!" Hiccup hysterically bawled, shamefully as helpless as a newborn baby. " _DADDY_!"

Oh, why didn't he listen when he should have? All his father wanted was his safety intact, fearful that something like THIS may happen, and now because of his own ignorance, he may not ever escape this unwanted feasibility. And his father would be alone in the world. "I-It HURTS!"

The dragon snarled and batted the child's bruised face with its paw, trying to silence the terrified creature but to no avail.

"D-DUH-DADDY!" Hiccup screamed, each syllable choking him up with the onslaught of blood traveling up his throat. He coughed, spraying the sticky liquid onto the dragon's approaching muzzle.

The Nightfury became ever-increasingly irked by the volume of his screams. To illustrate this, it proceeded to rake its claws across every inch of the poor boy, tearing the forest green tunic and shredding the skin beneath the article of clothing like blades slicing through butter.

The sanguinary assault left no place unscathed and succeeded in causing much bloodshed. Hiccup let out shuddering little gasps as he watched his own blood spurt and pool upon his body and drip onto the forest floor, where it soaked into the grassy vice.

"He-...Help..." He weakly choked out, his head incoherently flopping from side to side. He shuddered once more as the dragon loomed over him. He was sure he was being scrutinized as a tasty meal. "P...Please... Don't eat me..."

The dragon paid him no mind and Hiccup shut his eyes. Tears stained his pale-from-blood-loss face and his panicked thoughts turned to his village, his father, and the teens.

From what he knew about injuries-he did know plenty, having witnessed dozens of amputations-he was being ruptured beyond repair. Any more of this torture and he would die without his father's presence. If the dragon was satisfied with its work and left him alone (which was also very unlikely to happen) an infection would eventually creep up and take his life that way if blood loss didn't do the job first.

But... Hiccup coughed up a bout of mucus and blood as the inevitable end of his short life drew near in the distance, rendering him to tears. He would never see the village and its citizens again. He would never forge, draw, eat, or do anything enjoyable alive again. The great pink tongue lapping at the blood along with the speckles of flies corroding his raw wounds only made things worse.

The odds of actually drifting away to Valhalla and leaving behind his short life caused a sudden burst of energy to shoot through the young child. He wasn't going to die without a fight. He was a Viking! And as such, he would never die dishonorably!

"I'm a Viking..." Hiccup mumbled incoherently. "I…I'm a Viking…" The dragon ignored him. "I-...I..." He swallowed his blood and yelled with flourish, "I AM A _VIKING_!"

When the dragon reared back on its hind legs, prepared to slam both of its heavy paws onto his exposed ribcage, Hiccup used the adrenaline rush to flip over onto his stomach, narrowly avoid the dragon's paws slamming onto him, and speed crawl across the grass, despite the terrible, raw pain inflicting his being.

He didn't get far, of course. His unresponsive right shoulder dragged uselessly at his side, and he was using the entire left side of his body to push himself along the moist grass. But he didn't care. He needed to get away. He didn't know how, or where, but instinctual survival drive urged him to escape, so he kept crawling. He couldn't let the dragon win.

The Nightfury snarled and pounced, pinning the poor child on his stomach, causing the pain to intensify even more so. That's when Hiccup lost his bout of bravery and acceptance of an awaiting painful death.

"NO!" He screamed when the Nightfury bit into his other shoulder, tearing for all its worth. "GET OFF ME GET OFF ME GOBBER HELP ME HELP HELP HELP DAD HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME-" *crunch* "...H...H...Help..." Surely, someone would hear him, right. With how loud he was carrying on, one would think that Odin himself would jolt.

The dragon's paw slammed his face into the ground, effectively muffling his screams of pain and anguish. He squirmed as much as he could in protest. If he were going to die here, he would die fighting. He would go down, yes, crying for help, but he would protest until the very end to maintain a hold on what little shred of dignity remained in his mind. People would see that there was a struggle, he foggily confirmed. A large trail of blood to point Ä to point Į would prove it.

But as time wore on, and the amount of bloodshed increased, Hiccup began to drift away.

The boy coughed blood as his face was released. He was too disoriented to focus his emerald eyes and watch the liquid splatter. He was too far-gone at that point to cry out as the furious reptile sunk its teeth into his back and tore out chunks of human meat. The dragon, the Viking realized, must have destroyed many nerves during his attack, because the pain was almost fading away.

" _Well_ ," Hiccup thought tiredly, laying his head on one side. " _I suppose this is it for me."_

He couldn't imagine a worse death than this-being torn to bits by the enemy. But... But... His journal... The ropes... They would find out, he realized with relief. They would know that he DID capture the Nightfury, although he had been killed in the process of _setting it free._ He would have chuckled and shake his head if he could. How stupid it seemed now, that he once thought dragons had a conscious, or had feelings like humans. They were incapable of mercy, or pity.

"I don't wanna die..."

But now his father... His father would miss him to be sure... But now he had a reason to be proud of his son. Of the effort his son exerted to find a dragon and kill it. Now he could be prideful... Hiccup smiled a bit at that. He would die with honor and his soul would drift to Valhalla.

 _"A dragon will always...always...go for the kill."_

Well... At least now he could be with his mother.

Hiccup closed his eyes and waited quietly until the dragon finally finished him off by sinking its teeth into his slim neck, destroying any traces of life left within him.

...

"..."

...

..."HICCUP!?"

Hidden in the brush, the Nightfury watched with interest as the human Alpha bowed over his offspring's mutilated body, wailing and sobbing and begging the Gods to bring back his son.

(I might write an alternate ending in which Hiccup survives the ordeal)

And HERE IT IS! :D

The amount of terror and rage consuming Stoick's mind when he saw that beast tearing at his son was _astounding_. With a crazed battle-cry that the Gods themselves would eulogize, he barreled forward, brandishing his trusty axe above his head.

The next few moments were obscure and rushed; he felt nothing, he heard nothing, saw nothing. The trees and the brush disappeared into a misty glaze and all that mattered was the monster that was trying to make a meal out of his only son.

Stoick screamed with rage, chopping and hacking mercilessly at the hissing lizard before him. His lips pulled back into a snarl and his nostrils flared. How dare this cursed beast harm his son?! How dare lay a _claw_ -!?

Eventually, Stoick didn't care if he had fatally wounded the dragon or not; he only wanted the thing as far away from his son as he could force it, and if it finally gave up and retreated, his only priority was getting his son back to the village and receiving much needed help.

The Nightfury drew back in anger and snarled. He was so close! So _close_! The alpha's offspring would have made a hearty meal (despite the abundance of bones and lack of meat) that he wouldn't have needed to bestow to his OWN alpha to consume. Which reminded him...

The dragon swiped an injurious paw at the burly human in resistance, but ultimately decided that returning back to the nest was far more important than dealing with this burly human, even if he WAS the alpha of the human pack. With a final roar, the dragon retreated, hightailing it back to the woods behind him and away from the gruesome scene that he had created.

Stoick watched with satisfaction and heaved a large stone in the general direction in which the dragon had fled-with resounding boldness.

"BEGONE YEH DEVIL!" He bellowed with burning hatred. "BE OFF WITH YE!" His arms fell to his side and he panted.

The Chief had succeeded. Now there was the matter of his son, who lay unresponsive, still awaiting his imminent demise.

"Hiccup!" Stoick cried hoarsely, terror layering the earlier triumph as he rushed toward the mangled boy, which twitched in a pool of its own life essence.

It was a retched sight, and it was all the Chief could do to constrain the bile as he carefully lifted the torn body from the blood-stained grass and into his arms. It was then that he quickly observed his son's critical state and realized that if he didn't get back to the village fast enough, the male wouldn't make it.

Seconds later, he was off.

Stoick crashed through every obstacle in his path: brambles, shrubs, branches, fallen trees, you name it. Nothing could stand in his way when he was determined to preserve what little life his child possessed. At his speed, it wasn't long before he reached the town plaza.

"GET TH' HEALER!" He barked, his eyes wild. The surrounding villagers looked up from their daily tasks and upon taking in the sight of the marred body in Stoick's arms, they gasped.

The devastated father's eye twitched and he couldn't contain the note of desperation in his voice as he shouted again, "Are yeh stupid?! I SAID T' GET CLAUSÉ! **NOW**!"

"Aye, Chief!" A local shepherd named Gunnar responded to the man and scurried away as quick as he could.

Stoick followed the shepherd, making quick glances at his son to make sure he was still breathing. He was. Short, weak little inhales and exhales. Disoriented he was, drifting in and out of consciousness, the shock of the attack dimming his abnormally dull senses.

"C'mon, Son, stay weth me," Stoick desperately beseeched, taking note of the paleness of his son's face. He was losing more blood than one of his physique should; the palettes of his skin were fading away quite quickly. He held the limp body close and rushed up a nearby hill to enter the healer's home.

He felt sick. Sick as unfamiliar hands grabbed at his son and tore him out of his hands. Sick as he stared at his hands, which were now coated in the blood of his child. Sick as they shooed him out of the healer's place and concealed the boy from his view. Sick as he collapsed to his knees, internally cursing himself for not keeping a better eye on his child, for not getting it into the boy's head that he didn't WANT his son to be a dragon killer, because then something like this would happen and... And now he might die.

Sick as tears eventually broke through his mental barriers and streamed down his rugged face.

"..."

The last thing Hiccup remembered before nodding off was his father's screams of terror and rage, the dragon's teeth closing in around his throat to deliver the fatal bite, and the numbness that completely overtook his senses. After that, the dark took him, and he knew no more.

...Until a few days later, when he at last awoke from his hazy sleep, bandaged from head to toe, apothecary drugs coursing through his veins that made him sluggish and drowsy, colors before his eyes swirling together and noises droning on and on...

After the glow of firelight, the first things he came to process were the warm wool blankets layering his body. His rekindled instinctual drive urged him to move, but after a few tries, the most his sluggish body could accomplish was a mere centimeter of distance without paining itself.

Speaking of pain, a good sharp dose of it immediately overwhelmed his shoulder area and collarbone. This was caused by the movement of Hiccup attempting to lift his head off the pillow to try and see what was transpiring.

After a few more failed attempts at swiveling his head, Hiccup flickered his emerald, bloodshot eyes to his left, where he found his vast father sleeping at his side, hunched over the bed with his face buried in his arms. His helmet was discarded. Where, Hiccup didn't know, because he couldn't sit up to take a look.

Closing his eyes, Hiccup tried to recall earlier events that may provide evident reasoning as to why he couldn't move without it hurting and why his father was sleeping by his side. Not that he didn't appreciate it of course, or find it touching, because...well...

 _Oh_. Hiccup abruptly paled, all hue and peace draining away from his being as the memories at last fell into place.

 _The dragon. There was- There were-!_

Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut, only for them to pop open once more because the darkness he saw resembled the scales of the Nightfury, but images flashed before his open eyes regardless.

 _Razor sharp teeth shredding his shoulder- Claws raking his chest-! Those...Those terrible jade eyes that emitting one single entity:_

 _Hatred._

When a thick layer of anxiety shot abruptly through his spine, Hiccup opened his mouth to cry out to his father, only to discover with augmenting horror he couldn't assemble his voice. When only a hitched gasp escaped the confines of his mouth, followed by a series of coughing that burned his throat and chest, he began to whimper hoarsely; nothing short of panicking.

Thankfully, Stoick came to, absolutely joyful at his son's awakening, but quickly took to a calm aura to soothe him. It was all he could to keep himself from picking up the boy and squeezing him in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, Hiccup... It's alright, son. It's alright. Just calm down, just calm down."

The unusually calm tone in his father's voice miraculously soothed Hiccup's panicked nerves and he settled quickly.

"You're safe now. You're safe..."

He gasped, hoping his father could explain as to why he could not speak...and why he was alive...and where the dragon now resided.

Stoick smiled sadly at the sight of the prominent scarring on his boy's face. He found that his heart thumping tremendously, and he brushed a few strands of Hiccup's auburn back away from his wild eyes. "There was a mighty bit of damage t' yer throat," he explained quietly. Hiccup swallowed hard and winced at the raw ache, remembering how the dragon had slammed its paw into his jugular.

"Et might take time before yeh can speak properly again, but yeh'll be alright. Up and at 'em soon enough-Ah can promise yeh that."

Hiccup was very confused. Why was he still alive? Hadn't he been ripped to shreds? Shouldn't he be in Valhalla with his mother? What if his father had been brought down as well? Now that was a terrifying thought, and now that he thought about it, that did seem like a possibility. Scattered, unfocused images of his father fighting the Nightfury swirled about in his mind like a typhoon, and he was unable to make sense of it all.

He opened his mouth to speak once more, but was only able to emit a hoarse gasp. Stoick smiled with pity. "Ah'm sorry, Lad," he apologized. "If Ah could give up my status, my wealth, my _life..._ to prevent yeh from going through that sort of torture again, I would in a heartbeat."

Hiccup's eyes widened. He tried with all his muster to question the man's statement, but all that came out was a squeak. His cheeks burning with embarrassment and fever, he discovered that he was in the loft. His room.

Hm. He suppose he hadn't died at all. Never in the scripts had it mentioned that one could be mute in Valhalla, among the banquet of heroes. Nor did it say the atmosphere could be so...dusty.

Stoick found it pitiful that his son's stubborn attempts to speak were failing. "How about yeh work on yer name," he suggested. "Start small. Begin weth yer name. Think yer up to it?"

Hiccup tried his very best to nod to show that he wasn't an entirely hopeless case, but the movement merely sent a sharp searing pain throughout the base of his neck. Oh well. "M..." He tried, swallowing rigidly. "M-...Muh..."

Stoick inhaled with anticipation and slight tension. "Mah name es...?" He trailed with a slow nod of encouragement.

"Muh...Muy...M-" Hiccup croaked and swallowed again. Please Gods. Please, please, please, he _had_ to do this. "M-*hack*"

Sadly, he only made it that far, for soon he was coughing uncontrollably. The spasms pretty much erased any further implications that he would try constructing proper speech again anytime soon. He gazed wearily at Stoick, who sighed and shook his head.

Out of shame, Hiccup squeezed his tearful eyes shut, afraid to see the disappointment that was sure to override his father's complexion.

"It's alright," Stoick finally assured. Hiccup cautiously reopened his eyes to find his father smiling at him, which surprised him further. That of which was supposedly to be chastised had turned out to be reassurance. He was so sure that he was going to be frowned upon for his unintelligible dialect.

"We'll try again later when you've healed some," Stoick promised, but wasn't certain his son would...would be lucky enough to make it that far to try again. "Thirsty?"

Hiccup pursed his chapped lips together. He couldn't even nod, so how would he be able to communicate if he couldn't do so with his voice or body?

Stoick recognized his son's distress and helpfully offered, "Blink thrice for "yes" and twice for "no".

Hiccup rapidly fluttered his eyelids by the aforementioned "three" and Stoick nodded dutifully.

"I'll be back," he promised, and got up to leave the room, "...for sure."

For a few minutes it was silent, which gave Hiccup plenty of time to assess and imagine the extent of injuries the Nightfury had befallen upon his lithe form. It was then when he realized that he might not have been all in one piece, there on the bed.

To test out his appendages, he gave a small wriggle, gently enough to get some feeling back into his body without it hurting. To his relief, both of his legs were functional, albeit temporarily defective, torn, and raw. Still, they were functional, and that's all that mattered for the time being.

After breathing out a sigh of faint relief, he wearily recalled the matter of his shoulder and hands. Shuddering fearfully at the memories, he cringed. He knew that the aforementioned appendages had gotten the worst of it, and with the attack fresh in his mind; he feared that there were parts of him he would soon discover to be unusable. He was sure by that point that his entire body was littered with crude scars, etched and carved into his back and chest like a knife with a block of wood. He was certain that his form resembled that of a crudely sewn rag doll by the hands of a seven-year-old. Not to mention the raw ache that he was sure that any medication or herbs couldn't suppress stabbing his shoulder.

The sounds of feet thumping at the stairs brought Hiccup out of his worrisome stupor for the time being, and he felt his heart and mind calm again. Stoick had returned rather quickly for a man as burly as he with a mug of water in hand.

"Drink," he urged kindly, using the upmost gentleness to press the rim to his son's lips.

Hiccup complied gratefully and swallowed every last drop of cool fresh water within a matter of seconds to soothe the raw scratchiness in his throat. Stoick refrained from ordering him to slow it down some and seldom his enthusiasm, but he didn't feel right doing that then.

"Better?" He asked when the entire mug had been downed.

Hiccup gave a half smile in reply and blinked three times. Stoick faintly smiled back, his heart constricting.

"Ah suppose yer itching t' get some answers about what's been transpirin' around 'ere," he assumed, kneading his large fingers together.

Three more blinks.

"Alright." Stoick sat up in his stool, a small bout of silence blanketing the two. As far as one-sided conversations went, this should've been a walk in the park for the Chief, whose voice outmatched the rest, but when his son's piercing gaze plunged into his own, he found his throat dry.

Hiccup's half-smile faded, but he tried to speak out instead of blinking. He wanted to tell his father himself that he wasn't quite interested in hearing about his broken body. He was much rather interested in the fate and whereabouts of the Nightfury he had successfully (partially) downed. "...Drahhhh...? *cough* D-Drahhhgnnn?" He tried, praying that it was enough.

Thankfully, Stoick caught on, but his response wasn't up to par.

"Th' dragon?" He scowled, his fists clenching with hatred while his jade eyes gleamed. "I've got mah best trackers hunting it down. We should have it caged soon enough." He stopped and shook his head with despair. The last thing he wanted was to relive the moment when he saw his only child being eaten alive.

"W-When Ah saw what that _thing_ was doin' t' you," he snarled, "Ah drove it deep int' a cove and it's been there since. Least that's what mah men 'ave reported. Reason why it can't fly away is 'cause yeh did a number on the tail fin with that contraption o' yers."

He paused again, letting the words sink in. "Hiccup," he said quietly, his voice wavering ever-so slightly, "When Ah saw what that beast was doing to you..." He stopped yet again, slapping his hands over his eyes, his entire body trembling. Hiccup watched, trembling a bit himself. He hadn't meant for his father to feel this despair.

"Ah had never been so terrified in mah life," the man murmured. "Ah felt the entire seven worlds collapse around me. Nothing existed, nothing mattered except for yeh." He shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. "Ah wouldn't be able to forgive myself if...if...Ah lost yeh. And Ah can't lose yeh."

The quiet was deafening and Hiccup was sure he would die from the sadness, buried beneath it as it smothered his breath away.

"Ah can't lose yeh," Stoick tried to explain, glancing awkwardly away. He'd never been well with expressing how he felt, hence his name. "I TOLD yeh not to leave th' house... Ah'm not strong enough to...to-to _live_ without mah family."

Hiccup sucked in a breath, feeling it reverberate through his sore chest, all while feeling the blood draining away from his face as he began to shudder. It was too much. All these...these sentimental statements masking the important issue: the dragon. He shuddered again, his complexion darkening with beginnings of something unexplainable in their society. Stoick caught the look and gazed on in worry, but Hiccup clenched his teeth.

He couldn't handle this. What made him think he could handle this? His mind was stumped at that, and broke a little. What?! He asked himself why, but he wasn't sure what was... Couldn't handle what?! He was a Viking; he was made to handle hardships! He wasn't sure what it was that was driving him mad, but all he knew was that he couldn't handle it he couldn't handle it he couldn't handle it he knew he couldn't handle the thought of the Nightfury alive, the effect his own death would have on his father...the Nightfury...the Nightfury...the Nightfury...ALIVE!

The man would be alone in the world, a result of Hiccup's own arrogance and that unholy devil. Hiccup growled and clenched his jaw, literally shaking as he tried his best to hold in his screams and tears of hatred and anguish. But the pressure became too much. He let out a hoarse cry.

Stoick immediately picked up on his boy's distress. "Hiccup?" He whispered. Oh, Thor. What was he doing to his poor child? "Hiccup, it's alright, it's alright..." He reached over to tenderly cup the boy's cheek in his palm, where several rivulets of tears made contact with his fingers.

He closed his eyes, wondering to what extent the dragon attack had damaged his son, not physically, but mentally. That _cursed_ demon. It was its entire fault, destroying his child.

"It's over," he soothed. "It's over. It can't hurt yeh now. Not when Ah'm here. Ah'll keep yeh safe." Hiccup, still crying, leaned eagerly into the safety of his father's touch, absorbing the sweet security that came with him. Yes... His father would protect him. He always protected him. He _cared_. The Nightfury... The Nightfury wanted to kill him. His father. The teens. The children of the village.

Hiccup wanted to scream at his stupidity. He had let loose a killer. A killer! Exactly what had that thing been _doing_ before he'd downed it?! Destroying everything! Causing mass destruction that even _he_ was incapable of creating. It was madness, he realized, that he had let the Nightfury go.

...Hopefully his father had gotten a good few swings.

" _I have to kill it,"_ he thought, eyelids drooping with fatigue. _"I...I need to do it...for everyone...for Dad...for...for myself."_

...Hours later when Hiccup, finally overcome by the drugs and herbs, fell into a sluggish sleep, Stoick sat quietly. He didn't leave. He couldn't. How could he? An instinctual drive to protect his young surpassed all other matters and drove them into the back of his mind where they collected dust. The village could wait. Spitelout could finish documenting the accounts, Gobber would keep the forge running smoothly, and Silent Sven would take care of the herds. The dragons would just have to be fought off without him. Hiccup needed him more than anyone or anything, and by Freyja, he was going to be there.

He spent the remainder of the evening sitting quietly by his son's side, absentmindedly stroking his thick fingers through his auburn locks, wondering to himself how the boy was going to pull through. He had always been the fragile type, physically. But mentally? Hopefully that was a question he didn't have to answer.

"Chief Stoick?" A foreign voice whispered, long after the shadows in the room had lengthened and the light had adopted a rosy glow. The man who had remained by his son's side with an axe at the ready swiftly turned to meet the healer, Clausé, who was waiting nervously at the door. "Ah need to speak weeth zhou about your son's injuries."

Stoick grunted in response and followed him out the door. "How is he?" He asked blatantly. "Will he live? Tell me he will."

Clausé raised one shoulder and rand a bony hand through his aging, silvery hair. "At zis point," he admitted regretfully, "ze possibility of a fatal outcome eez steell very _very_ high."

Stoick's gaze darkened. "...Ah see," he intoned.

"Ze boy's been torn to shreds," Clausé sadly pronounced. "We can't deny _zat_."

"No, we can't," Stoick agreed.

"Many nerves and tissue have been ripped from hiz hips and left thigh, hiz collar bone eez nearly dysfunctional, wheech may interfere wiz ze usability of ze arm...and as for hiz left hand..." Clausé paused and shook his head sorrowfully. "Well...you've seen it."

Stoick nodded slowly, sweat trickling down his forehead. "Aye, that Ah have."

"Ze dragon has taken chunks of flesh from ze lad's backside," Clausé went on. "He iz very prone to disease and infection, so ve're doing our very best to keep hiz wounds clean. ...And zhere vill be an abundance of permanent _scars_. Not t' mention that amputation of ze hand is very probable."

"Any _good_ news?" Stoick growled flatly.

Clausé shook his head regretfully, almost guiltily. "None to speak of," he admitted. "Zhough, eef he iz lucky, he might be able to speak in a day o' two."

"...Loki's _beard_..." Stoick cursed under his breath, his hands aching to hit something, ANYTHING.

"He's een very bad shape, Chief Stoick," Clausé solemnly affirmed. "He may not be able to function properly again, EEF 'e makes eet out alive at _all_." Stoick's lip trembled at that, and he bit at it stubbornly. "And as for hiz mental state..." Clausé sucked in a breath and looked away.

"Bad," Stoick finished. He wasn't daft.

"Afraid so," Clausé sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But zhou ah're hiz fazher. You can help him. If zhere iz anyone who can heal hiz mind, eet iz _zhou_."

Stoick stiffened awkwardly. He had never been quite the sentient type parent, but a challenge called him to be. The challenge of stabilizing his child's broken mentality. He had to do it. For his son. Without him, the road to recovery would most definitely take a wrong turn and bellyflop off the face of a cliff.

With that in mind, Stoick cleared his throat and gave the healer a determined nod. "Yer absolutely right. Ah'll be there for him."

Clausé smiled sadly and patted the other Viking's shoulder. "I feel for zhou, Chief. I can't imagine ze hardships of watching zhour child go through zis pain."

Stoick shook his head uneasily and rubbed at his brow. "Ah can't lessen the pain," he murmured, and then chuckled weakly. "Ah think that's the hardest part: that Ah can't make et better."

Clausé smiled sadly and ushered the man back toward the door. "He needs you right now," the older man gently pronounced. "Go."

Stoick complied and entered the room, albeit hesitantly, of his injured son, who immediately perked at his return. Clausé followed suit of the Chief, smiling warmly.

"Hallo, Lad," he greeted. "Eet's good t' see you awake."

Hiccup smiled a little in return and lifted his chin, exposing his badly bruised throat. Stoick cringed and cast his eyes away, despite seeing harsher in battle. The effect a child could have on his father was tremendously underrated in his own opinion.

Clausé knelt at Hiccup's side and said, "Now, I'm going to feel a bit, so if eet hurts, just let me know."

Hiccup wondered how on Berk he was going to let the healer know if he was getting hurt if he couldn't speak, but when Clausé pressed a single finger against his jugular-

"ECH!" Hiccup hissed, his breath hitching hoarsely. He struggled a bit in protest as the finger moved, this time at the base of his neck, near his collarbone. There, it hurt terribly, and he was sure that if tears weren't streaming down his face before, they were now.

Clausé tsked and maneuvered his hand to Hiccup's cheekbone, bruised from the battering of the Nightfury's paw, and pressed.

Hiccup clenched his jaw, ignoring the ache, and TRYING to ignore the sting. He couldn't turn his head; it would just hurt more.

When the hand traveled to his shoulder, Hiccup's world went white and he knew no more. He wasn't sure if had screamed or blacked out, but when he came to, his father was shouting at the healer and shoving him out the door.

The poor healer was apologizing profusely, that he just hit a bad nerve and that he hadn't meant it. Stoick slammed the door with resounding flourish and rushed back to Hiccup's side.

"Son? Hiccup? HICCUP?" He shouted, gripping his boy's uninjured right hand. "Can yeh hear me?! ANSWER ME! ANSWER-! ...Oh, right. Ye can't speak." He awkwardly released the younger Viking's hand and took a seat, but his anger was far from gone.

"That fool," he cursed, shaking his head angrily. "Ah can't imagine WHAT that simpleton was trying to accomplish, but if he ever tries something like that again-!" He looked at his son, who was straining to regain some sort of numbness. "Does it still hurt?"

Through the pain, Hiccup somehow managed to focus his bloodshot eyes on his father and blink three times.

Stoick slumped and rubbed a hand over the space between his eyes after absorbing just how many bandages had to be plastered on the boy's body. How...even with all of that...was the blood seeping through? He couldn't even imagine... The worst he'd ever gotten in a raid was a 3rd-degree burn to the arm and the back of the leg...and that was painful! But none so painful as the agony his son was surely experiencing.

"I'm-I'm so sorry."

Hiccup blinked, his emerald eyes smarting.

"For everything," Stoick muttered. "For not listening. For-For not protecting ye as Ah should have. For not-For not..." He trailed off and sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. "For not being there when Ah should have been. When yeh needed me most." When he looked back up, Hiccup was shocked to see that his eyes were wet and runny.

"You were right about the Nightfury, about taking it down. If only you hadn't-!" He stopped. It wasn't any good to start blaming him now. He could only blame himself.

Hiccup miserably shut his eyes. He couldn't deny that he would have been spared this fate if he had listened to his father, but if his father had listened to HIM...would they had been alive and breathing by the end of it? And why was it that he had to be fatally injured in order for his father to see that?

"And now, with the state you're in," Stoick rambled. "Ah just-" He clamped a hand over his mouth and trembled. Hiccup watched incredulously as his powerful, daunting father crumbled before him, but it wasn't long before Stoick corrected himself, albeit tearfully. He cleared his throat.

"Th'-Th' healer informed me of the extent of injuries yeh've got. Would yeh like to hear...or...?"

Hiccup blinked twice, his good fingers curling.

"Ah. Alright then," Stoick absently dismissed. There wasn't much communication after that, considering that one of the participants was mute, but Stoick remained nonetheless. Even when Hiccup succumbed to exhaustion once more, he stayed, guarding his child throughout the night.

Sometime through the night, he finally succumbed to his exhaustion and fell asleep.

...

"Stoick? Stoick! Wake up!" A voice gently whispered in his ear. The man jolted awake, his hand instinctively clutching his axe at hand. He only relaxed when he realized that it was only Gobber awakening him from his slumber.

"Gobber!" The chief breathed, stealing a glance at his son, who was still out-cold. "Yeh nearly gave me a heart-attack! Don't yeh know it's dangerous to wake me up?!"

Gobber didn't answer at first. He looked very uncomfortable, and it confused Stoick. "What is it, Gobber? What's wrong?"

"Em... Well, Stoick," the other man began awkwardly. "Ah've got a message for ye. F-From th' healer."

Stoick's eyes narrowed. "What does he want?"

Gobber rocked back and forth on his heel and prosthetic, looking as skittish as ever. "Wellll... Ah-Ah personally wanted t' tell yeh; not just because Clausé is scared t' death of yeh now, but because Ah love Hiccup just as much as you do. And well, Ah figured that news this big should be delivered and discussed between honorary family members-"

Stoick held up a hand to silence Gobber. "Just. Tell. Me."

Gobber shook his head to clear and got to the point. "A-Anyway, Gothi and Clausé are outside with their assistants. They're here to, em...perform an amputation."

Stoick took a start. He couldn't have heard that correctly. "What?"

Gobber sighed sadly, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. "An amputation. Ah'm just as shocked as yeh are, Stoick."

"Can't we let him heal for a few more days?"

"Well-We can't. He's developing an infection in his left hand-" Stoick closed his eyes. "-We can't let it spread."

"..." How could this be happening? "Yeh think it's wise to cut off an appendage when he's unconscious from th' loss of blood as it is?!"

Gobber gave him a look. "Now, Chief, it's not what I think is right. It's what Clausé thinks is right. Not t' throw him under the wagon er anything."

"..."

"Yeh alright?"

Stoick shook his head but tried to maintain an intoned expression. "Let 'em in," he muttered tonelessly, heading back into his son's room. Gobber sighed and wiped his weary eyes.

"Aye, Chief," he responded, his gruff voice cracking tremendously. "Ah'll-Ah'll just, yeah... Ah'll go do that."

Stoick didn't watch as Gobber exited the loft. He could hear the door open and the cluster of hushed, muffled voices enter the quiet atmosphere. He stood rigidly and walked to the top of the stairs to acknowledge the healers.

"Chief Stoick," Clausé began, clasping his hands together worriedly. "V-Ve have come to-"

Stoick said nothing and beckoned them all upstairs. "Do yeh want me t' move him?" He intoned, locking his eyes on the motionless figure on the small bed. Gothi, who reached the top of the stairs, shook her head and bopped Stoick's side with her staff when he grumbled.

"Zat won't be necessary, Chief," Clausé wearily assured the man. "Ve'll spare you ze trouble. Now ef...ef zhou could please vacate ze premises...?"

Stoick whipped his head around to glower at the healer. "Ah'm not leaving him."

"Chief..." Clausé trailed, extending a hand while Gothi gave the man a hard look.

"Ah'm not," Stoick insisted, drawing himself up as if he were afraid that they were going to physically force him out.

"Stoick!" Gobber tried.

"Don't try and make me!" He snarled when a gentle hand graced his shoulder.

"Stoick..." It was Gobber, the only person who was capable of ushering the stricken man from the room. "Et's alright," he soothed. "Et's alright. Your boy is strong. He'll be just fine in the end. Ye'll see!"

"B-But Gobber!" Stoick protested, looking on in horror as the group of people closed in around his son. He finished with a hiss, "Yeh don't really think Ah'm just going to sit by and let them-?"

"Ah don't," Gobber interrupted him with assurance and a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Because Ah'll be there with yeh. They need t' concentrate on what they're doin'. Ye don't want them to get distracted and for something to go wrong, ey?"

Stoick opened his mouth to protest yet again, but the thought of his presence causing a fatal mistake surpassed his stubbornness. He did not want to be the cause if his son were to forego any more agony.

"...Alright," he muttered, ducking his head to obscure his face from the other man's view as he shuffled down the stairs. "But Ah want yeh t' stay up there, Gobber. Make sure nothing goes wrong. D-Don't leave him!"

The blacksmith smiled sympathetically. "Wouldn't dream of et, Stoick."

Not entirely placated, the skittish man lumbered to the hearth and began to tend to it in a nervous bout of anxiety. Not only did he have an audible view of the surgical procedure, but… He shut his eyes.

"Please… Odin, don't take him from me yet. Not yet."

...


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hello, all my faithful Fanrats! Welcome: to the darkest depths of my mind as we explore the innards of Hiccup's mental (and physical) being. ...Not in a weird way.**

 ** _Chapter Two_**

 _..._

 _Razors slice into skin._ _ **His**_ _skin. His pallid, reedy layer of tissue hemorrhages at the slightest laceration. It stings—no-more than stings. It festers. It stabs._

 _Saws crunch through his bones, leaving them shattered and splintered. It's raw agony. It's fire._

 _Thick, dark claws act as hooks and peel his bloody skin away, leaving him to resemble an ill-treated piece of game. It is chaste, utter torture._

"Nuh," _Hiccup congests, a torrent of blood pouring from his hairline into his half-lidded emerald eyes. He can't speak. Can't see. Can't cry for help. For his father. He's going insane and the monster revels in it. The jade eyes of said monster are the only things flaking away the darkness in this world, bearing at him from all sides, driving him mad._

 _The low, draconic rumbles answer his plead before teeth gnash at his left wrist, tearing mercilessly through cartilage, veins, and bones. Blood spurts from the gaping wound like a geyser, and the rumbling transforms into something that sounded like brittle cackling, taunting him while he writhes._

 _It's all a game to the monster. A sick game of twisted puzzle: puzzle pieces of flesh that tear away from its prey's body._

 _"_ Nng..." _Hiccup moans, flailing uselessly in the sea of inky blood. He is submerged, suffocating_. "He...Help muh..." _The claws jut forward and cram into his mouth, which cuts off his cries, and a torrent of blood follows its exit. His tongue has been ripped out._

 _He gurgles hysterically as the beast grips the sides of his face and tears into him with those switchblades for claws, and soon, Hiccup's face is all but a bloody mess of muscle. His lips are gone, his ears are gone, his nose is gone, and his small jaw is misplaced. He's half-deaf and half-blind-blinded by blood._

 _He's dead. Not really, but he might as well have been. Dead, but alive. Alive but as good as dead. The two bloody gaping holes that used to be his eyes leak tears of black liquid._

 _A tremendous roar is what he hears, and at the climax of it all, the teeth close around his torso and CRUNCH-_

Hiccup jolted awake with a silent scream, sweat trickling down his forehead and beading over every other part of his body. It was morning. Blinking rapidly at the sun-kissed wooden rafters of his room, he tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to calm his sporadic bout of nerves.

It was a dream. Just a bad dream, he assured himself. Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a _horrible_ dream. He must have been trembling and straining in his sleep because as of right then, his muscles were sore, aching and throbbing. Ugh... Not to mention how sick he felt. Light headed and woozy like Gobber after two barrels of mead. His body still ached with agony from the intense mauling he'd received, but thankfully, it was milder. How long had it been since the last time he'd been awake?

Shutting his bloodshot eyes, Hiccup tried to ignore the lessening pain and swallowed hard to stifle the bile traveling up his throat. The dream... It was so real... At the very least, the pain was. Perhaps that was because it _was_. That's right. Hiccup shivered. He'd been mauled alive, and allowed to live. And it was because his father had saved him. His father. His father risked his life to save his son.

" _Dad. Dad. Dad saved me. He hurt the Nightfury. He cares about me after all."_ Despite the embarrassment any warrior would posses having been saved by another party, a surge of happiness, gratitude, and relief filled his heart, only to be surpassed by another shocking thought. _"...But it's still alive."_ He realized. _"Dad may have packed a lunch, but...he didn't kill the dragon. It'll find me!"_ Hiccup sweat profusely at the terracing thought. " _It's gonna kill m-Rip me to shreds again till I'm dead. No... No, it won't. I'm overreacting...as usual."_

Hyperbole _._ Ha. Just another stupid extension of his pitiful existence. He sighed heavily. Why was he thinking like this? Or better yet, why was he wasting his time on the creature when he had significant things to worry about, like his injuries and his health? His _life?_ His _father?_

 _"You don't have time to worry about that-that monster,_ " he proclaimed, trying to reason with the paranoid, frightened part of him. _"There are bigger things-bigger things to worry about. And freaking out over the chance that the Nighfury will find me-which, by the way, is so improbable that I have a better chance getting struck by lightning-is not gonna help anyone. So calm down."_

 _"I'm trying!"_ His other half-wait. ...Other half? Great. Now he was going nuts.

With a half-hearted groan of frustration, Hiccup lifted his right hand and let it fall against his forehead, curtained by soaked-with-sweat hair. " _Just think about something else."_ And for the next few moments, he tried with all his might. He really _did_ try to force any reoccurring, unnecessary, and violent thoughts from invading his mind by thinking about other things: ships...clouds...Astrid...grass...sheep...the stars...spices...food... ...Astrid again... He winced and blushed, feeling far more uncomfortably hot then he needed to be. New topic. _New topic!_

But the thought of the dragon making a reappearance wouldn't leave his head, and he found himself trying to calm down by taking long deep inhales and exhales. On one hand, he was completely petrified, and on the other, he was dumbfounded by his stroppy mentality. _"Gods, Hiccup. It's a dragon!"_ He scolded himself. _"A dumb animal! It can't find you. It can't find me. It can't. What am I thinking?"_

Hiccup chuckled hysterically. Yeah, what was he thinking? That a random dragon (albeit a rare and exquisite one) was going to personally hunt him down and risk its own life to do it? Sure, it was an animal, and it was stupid, and dragons _were_ known to hold strong grudges, but regardless of that, it was a silly idea. At random, another tiny hysterical laughed bubbled up in his throat and he let it out without thinking. Hiccup bit his lip and opened his eyes. ...What was that all about?

 _"What are you talking about?"_ That new, hysterical side of him cried. _"That thing's eluded us for years and you don't think it can find me if it wanted to? It knows that this island is my home and it knows where we as the humans live! Why wouldn't it find me?"_

 ** _Stop. Just stop._**

 _"It won't find me 'cause…'cause… Ugh... I can't even think straight..."_ The young Viking muttered. It was just now beginning to dawn on him that something was wrong with him-not his boney bodily appearance, but with his mental state. There was no question that living through such a horrific ordeal would leave anyone broken, but this was... This was becoming less of a fear factor and more of an obsession.

He shuddered and instinctively closed his eyes, only to pop them back open again a moment later. He couldn't shut them now; jade reptilian irises invaded the midnight atmosphere of his eyelids, accentuating the hate-filled glare of the Nightfury. The Nightfury.

Hiccup lurched, his boyish jaw trembling as a concentrated fear began to flow through his veins. All sensible thoughts abandoned his psyche as the image of the beast engulfed him in its terrible basking glory.

 **The** _Nightfury_ **beast** _Nightfury_ **was** _Nightfury_ **going** _Nightfury_ **to** _Nightfury_ **kill** _Nightfury_ **him**.

Overcome by what he now believed to be impenetrable terror, Hiccup began to writhe beneath the covers, almost as if the dragon was tracking him down at that very moment and he needed to hide. "Ngh!" He groaned when pain shot through every inch of him when he moved. He wanted to scream, but his throat injuries prevented him. He wanted to hide, but he couldn't even withstand the agony in order to move on his own.

...Now he was truly useless. "Ngh..." Hot, salty bubbled up behind his eyelids, threatening to fall it he dwelled over the monster any further. Stop. He was gonna have an anxiety attack if he continued to panic. Stop. Luckily, the Gods provided a favored distraction before he went completely over his head.

" _Hiccup!"_ The petrified child, thankfully, froze. "Are you awake?"

Amazingly, the young teenager was able to banish nearly all traces of the beast from his mind...for now. He tried to smile without irritating the gashes on his face as his father approached, respite overflowing his features. It almost broke his heart to see his father so relived, and in his excitement, he fought in urge to sit up.

"H-Hech...!" Oh, that's right, he remembered sadly. He couldn't speak. Oh well. It wasn't as if he and his father could hold up anything that resembled a two-sided conversation.

Stoick rushed over to his side and placed a gargantuan hand on his forehead. "Thank the Gods your alright," he whispered, before excitement overtook his own being. "Oh, Ah _knew_ ye'd pull through!" He did not mask his excitement, radiance coloring his face like paint on a canvass: bright and evident. He laughed jovially, pumping a fist while his infectious smile lit up the atmosphere, and Hiccup couldn't help but smile back, despite his predicament.

"Yeh mean AH knew!" Came Gobber's lightly afflicting tone from the downstairs. Stoick rolled his eyes and Hiccup perked up at the familiar sound. Although he hated to be under the attention of many, it was a tremendous relief to hear his beloved mentor's voice. That he had even bothered to make an appearance illustrated that there were other people beside his father who cared for his well-being.

"Sorry, Gobber!" Stoick sheepishly called back before turning back to Hiccup and whispering, "Ah knew it all along."

Hiccup was ready to bear the pain in order to wrap his lithe arms around his father's neck, but the blacksmith's voice postponed his desired intention.

"Ah told yeh, Stoick," continued Gobber as he hobbled up the stairs and stuck his blocky head in the doorway of the loft. "Hiccup may be a titchy lad," he teased, pinching his forefinger and thumb together, "but he's got some bite in 'im! Trust me, Ah know."

For once, Hiccup didn't mind that his father was hesitant to agree about his physical or verbal durability. As sad as it may have sounded to other people, the youngster had almost gotten used to the fact that he was a runty Viking and probably always would be. But the bodily limitation wasn't about to stop him from trying his hardest to earn the respect of his father. He would do anything to make him proud. I.E... The bola launcher escapade-just to name one.

"So, Hiccup, yeh met a Nightfury," Gobber recounted in awe. "That must've been quite the experience."

Hiccup winced, offering a tight-lipped smile but Stoick was already reacting, pride and comfort swept away in an instant and replaced by something close to offense-even hurt.

" _Gobber!"_ He barked, clouting the loose-lipped man with a glare of incredulous disbelief. The guilty party flinched upon realizing him mistake, self-consciously abashed by his miscalculated choice of words. "This is NOT the time."

Thinking quickly to save himself, Gobber forced out an apologetic laugh. "Eh...eh-heh. Right. Sorry 'bout that, laddie," he repented, to which Hiccup sent him an assuring but dismal simper. "Sooo...does he know yet?" He asked tentatively. The already bitter atmosphere in the room vanished on the spot and was replaced by something close to dread-on Stoick's, who tensed-and tumult in the teenager, who blinked in confusion.

Well, this hadn't been going as well as Hiccup imagined it was going to be. It wasn't uncommon that Gobber would unintentionally hit a nerve, but to personally embarrass his father by this degree? There had to be a separate alternative that was causing the usually carefree, upbeat smith to shuffle provisionally, almost nervously. But why? What didn't Hiccup know?

It didn't take long for the boy's heart to sink after his father knitted his thick brows into a worried frown. _"Suffering scallops, I'm gonna die slowly, aren't I?"_ Hiccup thought hopelessly, that being the worst of scenarios swirling about his mind; to die a slow painful death by infection or depleting blood supply. " _Or...maybe I'm going to live but suffer for it."_

When his father silently calculated his next approach, Hiccup was already beginning to internally panic. " _Am I never going to talk again? Oh, I don't think I could live with that even if I tried. Did the dragon rupture my spine? Great. What, is it another thing to lower my status any further? WHAT?!"_ And that-that was the final straw that broke the yak's back. It had gone beyond far, had crept into the realm of something Loki must have crafted to horrify his stricken mind. The idea that his father might think-might believ that his son was going to join the Gods in Valhalla-was enough to leave the poor boy positively light-headed. Momentarily queasy, his guts melting within him and sloshing around in a white-hot slur. Hiccup didn't think that he could live out the rest of his life in a wheelchair, but at the same time-was death worse?

"Ah'm afraid," Stoick gruffly began, which snapped Hiccup out of his thoughts, "...um... A-Ah'm afraid that the healers needed t-t' perform an..." He sighed inwardly, mentally preparing himself for however his son would react. "...an amputation."

For a moment, Hiccup's breath hitched as he tried to comprehend what his father had just said. For the record, it was a lot better than what he'd been expecting, like paralysis or death, but at the same time... Seizing the boy's silence as a fair opportunity to explain, Stoick continued, "Don't fret. It was just a small one to keep an infection from spreading, and Gobber said that after a while, you'll get used to it and it won't be so bad, right Gobber?"

In the doorway, the blacksmith smiled awkwardly and looked down at his peg-leg and prosthetic hand, and Hiccup didn't know what to think. Almost immediately, he began flexing every part of his body, quickly trying to locate the missing appendage.

It didn't take long. He was left-handed, and it was almost instinct to conduct it first before everything. His heart pounded as his brain tried to signal to the fingers that weren't there to move, but failed.

With great struggle, the boy nervously lifted his left arm and what he saw stole his breath away: what used to be his left hand, all the way down to the wrist...was nothing. Just a securely bandaged stump at the end of his skinny arm instead of a five-fingered hand; it was almost impossible to see that something had been there before, but Hiccup's own mind kept tricking into involuntarily believing that it was _there_.

For several moments, he imagined he was flexing his non-existent fingers. It was a strange sensation, because the nerves in his wrist that connected to his fingers and knuckles were unharmed, but since the appendage was absent, they now had nothing to dictate. It was easy to become frustrated with this new limitation, and Hiccup had only NOW discovered the severe scar, if he could even call it that.

With a sorrowful moan, he let his arm fall and let his eyes swivel up to the rafters. Stoick bit his lip, guilt flooding through his system. Thor, if he had arrived in time, or had simply listened to his son, then this could have been avoided and Hiccup wouldn't have to live the rest of his life out as an amputee.

" _Still_ ," he reasoned, " _It could've been worse. He could've been paralyzed. He could've suffered permanent head injuries. He could've died... He..."_ He closed his eyes and leaned over his son, sheltering him with his large form. It was at this time that he began to wonder if he was handling the situation well enough, and if it would have been handled any differently if his wife were still present.

" _She would've stayed by his side no matter what the circumstances,"_ the Chief thought with a touch of relish and pride. " _She would've stayed with him, even if the roof was aflame and the ground was shaking. ...What would she think of me if she were here?"_ He wondered hopelessly. " _She'd be angry with me, of course, but what about the Nightfury? Surely she would sympathize with her own son over the devil?"_

A choking sob prevented his thoughts from dwelling over his wife any further. " _Hiccup,"_ Stoick murmured softly, disheartened from also informing his son that he would have to walk with a limp, due to the internal damage to his hip-bones and ribs. "You're goin' t' be just fine."

In the background, Gobber sighed quietly, still ashamed over what he'd said.

Hiccup was uncertain about whether he was going to be "fine" as his father quoted, because how was he supposed to forge now? How was he going to draw? Or hold a shield? Or shoot an arrow? Or row a boat? Or draw a sword? Or sign a treaty when he became chief? There were so many things-

NO.

Hiccup silenced the negative thoughts and tried to find the solutions to supersede them. Well, if Gobber could expertly forge weapons with a single arm, why couldn't he? He could learn. And it wasn't as if it was impossible to learn to draw, write, and wield a sword with his right rather than his left. Many people in his tribe were amputees, and they could fight just fine without a missing limb. In fact, Gobber would take it upon himself to fashion weapons where his hand should be. As for a bow and arrow, he would have to find some other solution. He could do it; he could even create an intricate hand for himself! He just...he needed time to get used to fact that he could never use his left hand again.

"Yeah, e-et's not so bad, laddie," Gobber assured the teen, gesturing to his own body. "Take me for example: Ah lost two limbs and Ah'm a HUGE success! Ask anyone in th' village who was alive during the incidents. They'll tell yeh. And if yeh ever need a deadly weapon as a replacement for yer hand, ye'll know where t' go."

"Tha-*cough*" Hiccup tried to thank him and failed, but Gobber held up a hand good-naturedly. Heh. Good ol' Gobber. He never failed to lift anyone's spirits in a time of great sadness. It was something he was innately good at; and although most of the villagers were kind-hearted, nobody else could quite compare to Gobber. Hiccup made a note to voice his appreciation to the man once he could speak again.

"You needn't worry about it," the smith continued, hobbling over to ruffle the boy's auburn hair. "With a tich of help, ye'll be up an' about just like before. Soon, Ah promise, 'cause Ah want mah little apprentice back."

This time, a real smile spread across Hiccup's face, and his heart elevated with hope. Fortunately, he was too wrapped up in this new positive prospect to notice that his father had sent a disapproving glare to his friend. Before Hiccup could notice though, Stoick put on a small smile.

"You've been out for nearly a week, son," he told him. "Gothi notified me and said that tomorrow, ye'll be due to have some of yer bandages removed."

Hiccup's smile seldom fell at the thought of seeing his scars for the first time. After all, who would want to witness something so...so grotesque? But on the opposite side of the spectrum, he was glad to hear that he would've have to spend another lifetime in his bed and that he could finally go out into the village.

The village... He almost jerked in surprise. Surprised at himself, for not wondering what the members of his tribe (specifically his generation) were thinking about his predicament. Were they just as concerned as his father and Gobber? Or could they care less? Hiccup tried pushing the latter aside, assuming that it would be probable above everything else. At that, a shocking amount of bitterness began to consume his heart.

" _Why would an impairment change the way they personally feel about me?"_ He wondered. _"Sure, pity's on the menu, but not without a side of scoffing and an entrée of annoyance."_ Once the innovation of his injuries frayed off, the villagers would look up and lose their commiseration because he was still…Hiccup. Still a hiccup, a runt. Not a warrior, not a dragon killer, and certainly not anyone special, not actually courageous as one might think, not really courageous at all, just lucky to live; maybe a bit smarter than the average teenager, but that didn't mean he was worth the time. He just stumbled around like a drunken man, trying to do what was right for himself.

It was inevitable. Someone-somebody would realize it soon – his dad would realize it soon and then things would go back to the way they were. Pretty soon, he'd diminish, as inconspicuous as the squirrels in the woods. His father was a smart man and he'd see in time that his son was still _him_ , his name was still Hiccup and he wasn't daring or heroic like. It had just been a flesh wound, nothing to be proud of…

And Hiccup was used to it.

When the time came, when everyone decided he wasn't worth it anymore, realized he was still a screw-up and not very useful at all, they'd turn their backs and he could accept it. He wouldn't like it – he might never know what it was like to have a human friend – but he would be able to stand it. He had survived a Nightfury attack, he could take anything the world threw at him, even if they would continue to hate him once the sympathy wore off.

Of course. There were no ifs, ands, or buts. It was as inevitable as the next dragon raid. They would snort at him. Roll their eyes. Say, "I told you so" to his father and laugh with him behind his back. They'd be angry-no, _furious_ -that Hiccup hadn't finished off that dra- He shuddered. -...That dragon. That dragon. If it hadn't been killed, then who was to say that it wasn't prowling the island right now?

Hiccup swallowed hard.

What if it was stalking the villagers as he lay here protected by two grown adults? That wasn't fair! Especially if _he_ was the cause of the dragon's hunger for revenge. His remaining hand trembled and clenched the woolen blanket.

No! No. His father had said that men were searching for it; they had probably captured it already and were awaiting their Chief's command. Yes, that had to be it, he assured himself and relaxed a bit.

"Hiccup? _Hiccup_! For the love of Odin, are yeh listening to me? _Hiccup_!"

The teenager jolted, snapping out of his self-induced trance to glance confusingly at his father. To his surprise, both Stoick and Gobber were staring at him with worry ebbed on the their faces.

"...Hiccup... Didn't you hear me?" Stoick asked slowly.

Hiccup went red and blinked twice, wondering to himself why it was so easy for him to drift off into space now. Sure, he had an infamously short attention span before, but now it was getting extreme. Stoick stole a glance at his friend, who shrugged but looked just as worried as his counterpart.

"...Right," Stoick dismissed, and then carried on as if nothing had happened. "Anyway, I was asking yeh if yer shoulder is still hurting."

Hiccup scrunched up his face, and although he was still invested by the looks of worry the two men had indiscreetly sent each other (why they had done it thinking that he couldn't see was beyond him), he blinked three times to inform his father that YES, his shoulder was still very sore and very tender. Now THAT was the wound he wished he would never have to come to terms with.

Stoick sighed once more and the room went quiet. "Ah'm sorry, but there's nothing Ah can do about that." Hiccup smiled with understanding, but deep within his psyche, he was screaming.

...

The rest of the day passed without incident, although the haunting eyes of the Nightfury never failed to plague Hiccup's mind throughout it. Gobber returned to the forge and Stoick remained downstairs to sort out through documents.

Hiccup lay half-asleep in his bed, heart pounding, sweating, staring as if a trance at the iridescent, unblinking jade eyes hovering above his face.

" _Help_ ," he wanted to scream. He wanted to be safe, to be protected.

...

The day after that, it was time to remove the bandages that nearly covered the entirety of Hiccup's body. Gothi had come over by herself specifically for this occasion, as she was the best in the village, and she didn't want any distractions. Stoick had dismissed Gobber back to the forge after thanking him for his help, and soon it was just the three of them.

Now, it was all a matter of if Hiccup was healing properly or not. If he had developed some sort of infection in any of his other wounds, there was a great chance he would not make it. It was uncommon in his era that people would die from petty lesions coupled with lethal infections, and since it was fairly easy to inlet these toxicities, both he and Stoick were beyond nervous.

"Just let the wounds be clean," he prayed. "Please let the wounds be clean."

With help from his father, Hiccup sat stiffly upon the edge of his bed, one hand clenched in his lap, covering the amputated appendage on his left. He had the woolen blanket cover his lap, due to his lacking state of dress, for the wounds inflicted by the dragon reached as far down as his hipbone.

Gothi approached calmly and quietly, foil to the two males who were literally sweating with nervousness, Stoick because of the chance of an infection, Hiccup because he didn't want to witness the hideousness of his own scarred form, and he certainly didn't want anyone else to witness it either.

The old woman approached slowly but business-like, her large eyes devoid of all judgment, but filled with doctoral concern. Her gifted hands reach out; her other held the clippers that would cut through the tightly bound bandages. Hiccup swallowed audibly and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Er...Gothi?" He heard his father say.

The teenage Viking cautiously opened his eyes, not expecting to see Gothi pausing right above the first wrapping on his chest. Instead, she was staring at _him_ , deeply into his terrified eyes.

"Mm?" He mumbled, and then croaked horsely, "Y-y' cn go ahd."

The old woman gave a tiny nod of confirmation and maneuvered a pair of clippers to cut through the first bandage. With a brisk fervor, she began to quickly but carefully unravel it. Hiccup closed his eyes and shivered as the cool air graced his wounds. It stung a little since the fibers of the bindings bound to his dried blood as they were pealed away, but other than the acute sting, his backside and chest were free from agony. But regardless of that, he was still hideous.

Then onto his shoulder. When the healer's gnarled fingers first came into context with the bandages, Hiccup had to clench his teeth to hold back a whimper. Gods, even after a week of being tended to, it _still_ hurt like the fires of Helheim. He could only imagine how awful is must have looked if the feeling alone made him nauseous.

With every one less layer removed at a time, Stoick became more and more relaxed. There was nothing terribly unusual about the way the stitches looked, other than the inflamed appearance they possessed, but that was typical of the time. Perhaps he'd been overreacting. Perhaps his son was granted some sort of miracle recovery by the Gods and would overcome it. With that in mind, his crossed arms fell to his side and he approached the bed to get a closer look.

Hiccup glanced nervously at his father and whispered, "'I-'S it bd?"

Stoick opened his mouth, fully prepared to assure his son and say that it didn't look as nearly as bad as it probably felt, but as Gothi removed the last of the bindings from Hiccup's shoulder, where the Nightfury had done the most damage, he stopped short and forced his eyes away.

It was...gruesome. The entirety of his shoulder, from the nape of his neck to the end of the triceps' was raw, red, and blistering with a discolored proportion. It didn't even look like the skin was there; just textured, indented lumps of clay like one might see as a severe burn wound. Near the center of the wound was where burgundy dwelled the most, and inflamed yellowish-orange surrounded the edges. If he looked closely, Stoick could see the sharp outline of Hiccup's clavicle poking at the mess. But he didn't look closely. As soon as that monstrosity was exposed, the Chief turned his head away, unable to stomach the sight of it on his boy.

When his father didn't answer, Hiccup carefully rotated his head to catch a glimpse of it himself, and instantly regretted doing so once he got a good look. He made some sort of choking noise and clenched the edge of the bed with his remaining hand.

Gods, it was worse than what he'd imagine. Much worse.

" _Okay, okay_ ," he thought, biting his bottom lip. " _It's okay. It's okay. It's just the exterior. I-It's not that bad. It's not infected, right_?" He locked eyes with Gothi, The only one in the room who wasn't agitated by the festering shoulder. She smiled cheerfully and patted his remaining hand, nodding to indicate that all was well. " _See_?" He told himself, and smiled back at her. " _It isn't bad. You just need to relax a little. Like Gobber said, it's not the end of the world_."

But on the other hand...he was hideous. He snorted miserably. …Eh. Nothing new.

"E-Et's alright?" Stoick asked, blatantly surprised, "No infection?" Gothi nodded again to confirm his hopes and the man sighed in relief. "Thank Thor, and thank you too, Gothi. Ah couldn't have done it without you."

The old woman frowned abruptly shook her head at the man, pointing at him with her staff. He froze under her demeaning gaze and shifted.

"What? Sorry, Ah don't under-"

The senior held up a tiny green glass case of herbs and flung it expertly at the chief, who caught it in midair with one hand. He read the label, conveniently _not_ in Norse, but in French. "Thank you, Gothi," he remarked sarcastically. "Eh, and what do yeh want me t' do with...?"

Gothi impatiently rolled her eyes and pointed at the bottle, at him, and then at Hiccup, who flinched. It was only then that Stoick caught on. "Ah! You want to apply this to him?" She nodded, holding up one finger and then spreading it on her own bony shoulder. "On his shoulder...right, one dab only," he went on as she continued her charade. "Uh-huh...everyday day before dinner..." Hiccup was drifting off yet again by this point, but grimaced at the thought of anything coming into contact with the inflamed gash, especially the non-to-gentle hands of his gargantuan father. With any luck, he might injure it further.

"Alright...and a spoonful of...right, every three days." Stoick gave a solemn nod and thanked the old woman for her help. She smiled wearily, patted Hiccup's remaining hand, and hobbled down the stairs and out the door, leaving the two males behind in silence.

Hiccup instinctively went to clasp his hands together, but seeing as to one was missing, he carefully rubbed the upper-back of his neck with the remaining one instead. Well, it was done. And he was just as ugly as he had anticipated. He knew that scars were considered attractive by many, since it exemplified bravery and strength, but he didn't feel neither brave nor strong. And the scars adorning his body certainly weren't handsome.

B-But nobody had to see them! His everyday attire alone covered over ninety percent of the scars, so the chances of anyone catching a glimpse of his ugliness were pretty low. Thank Thor for that.

"Are yeh alright, Hiccup?" Stoick asked quietly, slowly scrutinizing over the stitches. "Those are quite the eh- _scars_ , y-yeh got there." Thanks.

Hiccup shrugged one shoulder and sent a half-smile on the side. " _It looks manly though, right?_ " He thought half-heartedly, gently fingering at the tissue of his raw shoulder. Thankfully, it was numb at that point, and his fingers did little to stimulate any pain. "T-...Tol' ya I ca't keep ths-this raw Vikin'-ness cntained," he quipped with a croak. "Th...Thr'd b' conseqnces..."

Stoick stiffly folded his arms instead of replying and the room became deathly quiet again until he said, "Ah want yeh t' stay up here for a few more days, son." Before the boy could object, he added, "Ah know ye must be bored outta yer skull, but there isn't anything you can do about it. Don't argue with me." Hiccup shot him an annoyed glare. "Understand this: until yeh heal up a bit more, there're so many diseases you're be susceptible to-especially if you go outside like-like _this_."

"Y-*cough* jist guestured t' alla me," Hiccup mumbled, rubbing absently at his stump of an arm. He shivered

"Yes. Yes, Ah did," Stoick confirmed, before turning on his heels to head for the top of the stairs. "Is there anything Ah could get for ya? A book t' read? Charcoal?" At the mention of charcoal, Hiccup perked up. It was no secret that he loved to draw, and given the current quarantine he was in-...oh...

His left hand was gone...the hand he drew and wrote with. Hiccup sighed, his heart dropping to his stomach. "B'k..." He answered quietly, and Stoick nodded, perfectly unaware of his son's sudden depression but unsure of how to deal with it.

"Alright," the man replied shortly. "...Just rest yourself. Stay outta trouble, and don't. Leave. This. Room. Understood?"

Hiccup nodded and Stoick was satisfied.

"Good. I'll be back soon with a book...probably." He left, leaving Hiccup to sulk.

"Ngh...I'll b-b' here..." Hiccup sighed. _"...Maybe."_

...

 **Author's Note: Cripes, that took me a lot longer than I thought it would. Oh well. That's to be expected especially with all the other projects I'm working on. I hope you're all curious as to where this story will go, especially with the other teenagers and the rest of the village reacting to their heir's near-death experience.**

 **Anyway, leave a review! That means YOU, Connor Duhnam. ;) I REALLY need to know how you guys feel about the story so far, and hey, if you have any suggestions as to how the story will end, I'd LOVE to hear it. Because as of right now, I am writing the story as I go along.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Well, I have to admit, I'm pretty surprised that this story has gotten the recognition that it's gotten so far. I was expecting a lot less from the get-go, especially since I consider this a quickly-written excerpt from my witty mind. But hey! I'm not complaining, and thankfully, you Fanrats aren't either.**

 **And since it completely slipped my mind to answer your reviews from the last two chapters, I'm taking it upon myself to answer them now before one of you calls me out. Connor D. *narrows eyes playfully* I'm looking at YOU.**

 **Commence ze responses before I forget again (Lord forbid).**

 **The Lone Wolf** **: Thanks! It actually took me quite a while of planning, scripting, and editing to achieve the perfect mutilation scene. In fact, that only took a month to complete, and at that point in time, was meant to be a one shot with Hiccup perishing. And Stoick has some** ** _very_** **big plans for our favorite Nightfury. It's only a matter of time before they meet again, and they WILL, I promise you. ;)**

 **Deathjest** **: It WAS quite a brutal scene; almost as bad as the entirety of "An Insane Glint" that I wrote during middle school. I ended up posting it on Fanfiction, haha! And as you can plainly see, this is no longer a one shot. There are a few more chapters I have planned in mind, and I can't wait to write them out.**

 **Deathjest** **(chapter two): My heart breaks with yours. If someone else would have been writing the story I would've been crying my eyes out along with every other reader on this website but since I am writing it myself I hardly feel anything towards it other than sadistic pleasure. Haha. Just kidding. And as for Hiccup being ambidextrous...a cool idea, but I think I'm going to take him onto a different route in order to cope with his missing hand. Something very cool though, so don't worry. ;) By this point in time, Hiccup will have his voice back, so you don't need to worry about that. But as for his sanity...um...well... Let's be thankful that we have crazy pills in this era, huh? ;) It would've been handy back then.**

 **ShadowMaster91** **: Inserting Valka into this story has never quite been a goal of mine, not only because I despise her with every fiber of my lithe being, but incorporating Valka would definitely derail the original path of the story and take it in an unwanted direction, a direction I am uninterested in taking. So as of now, if I don't feel like writing a short spin-off at the end, Valka will not witness her mutilated son, as much as that would have been interesting to see. Sorry, dude! But thank you for informing me. It would've been a neat idea, but it's not what I'm aiming for.**

 **NameGuest** **: Even my guy-friend admitted that he didn't expect it from me. Haha! Yeah, it's a freaking miracle that our beloved Viking didn't die, or at the very least pass out from the loss of blood. I doubt any normal person would've made it through that. God bless illogical cartoon stability. ^^ And bless your friend, too! That's so kind of her to do that for her mother.**

 **Wait remember:** **Come to think of it, I HAVE seen the Revenant. It was...quite boring, I have to admit. The only scene that even came close to being exciting was when the guy got attacked by a bear but after that, it was a snooze fest for me. My mom was the only one that was freaked out out of everyone. She was screaming. Literally screaming. Even my dog was like, "Are you okay, Bridgit?" It was pretty funny, but the mauling scene that I wrote was not inspired by the Revenant. If it had been, it would've been a snooze fest.**

 **Morbidnesssssssssss** **: Buddy, in trying. I'm only one girl here, and I'm trying my best to please everyone. But if it makes you all the happier, than constantly working my typing fingers makes it all worthwhile. So here is your chapter. Feast your eyes upon it so that you may cry.**

 **TheForesakenTwist** **:**

 ***reads review***

 ***laughs***

 ***bites tongue***

 ***curses at my poor dog***

 **Bellyjekky** **: Why yes. It is uber cool. Does anyone say uber anymore? Is it just me? Because if it's just me I'm gonna go jump off that cliff over there. In fact, I'm going to do it anyways.**

 **LeakedSecretleav** **: Buddy, I cannot even begin to tell you how much I agree with what you just said in your review. Not only am I sick and tired of all those "get out of Dodge (Berk)" garbage, but I am also a loyal fan of gore and will always be for the rest of my life, no matter how squeamish I feel during the day. I will always watch or read something violent. ... I just realized how weird that sounds. Sorry everyone! It's just that I don't have a ton of options on this website.**

 **FluentFletcher2** **: Fletcher's back and bigger than ever! What valuable piece of knowledge will he bestow upon me from the enlightened depths of his incredible mind? Tips and tricks for writing insane characters? Man oh man, do I value your opinion, Fletcher. I think that you are by far the most informative caring critic that I have ever met on this website. Not only are you a thorough descriptive, detailed person, but you actually take the time to write what you have to say in a manner that portrays your maturity. You've been with me since the beginning, and I just want to say that I appreciate what you're doing. Thanks so much for the tips! I found them extremely helpful in incorporating them into Hiccup's moods, thought-process, and actions. And for providing me those extra details, I in return will grant you a cookie. Not the scrappy Internet cookies, but a** ** _real_** **cookie from the bottom of my heart.**

 **FluentFletcher2** **(chapter two): I have noticed that a lot of people are very interested in what the village has to say about Hiccup's predicament, and I can promise you that I am going to delve deeper into that in this chapter. I have noticed that a lot of stories on this website portray everyone in the village as cruel, cold, and heartless people that will go out of their way to make Hiccup feel miserable about his life and that's simply not the case. They are human beings, not monsters. Village is not a village of Warriors only with a fixed mindset. There are children in that village; there are mothers, fathers, shepherds, medics, traders... All sorts of people that happened to have a prejudice against dragons and people that didn't live up to the expectation that you need to protect your own. And for good reason! So for me it will be very interesting to write the responses that the villagers have toward Hiccup.**

 **Ellieneeeee** **: Yeah! I'm with you! Odin! Don't you dare take our beloved Viking away from us! Even though he's technically a fictional character and can come back to life at ease whenever we wish him to.**

 **CassandraDayTree** **: Hey gurrrrl! Thanks for dropping by. For your troubles, here's a Frosty Freezy Freeze! And don't worry. Although Hiccup is currently under some extreme circumstances, I promise you that there will be some improvement. Kind of. Sort of. So-so. Partially. Maybe. Perhaps. Kinda. Yyyyyyeah.**

 **A Person Who Likes Comedy:** **I know, right? It's beyond wicked! It's EVIL! MWHAHAHA! Very glad that you like the story because I've put in so much effort into writing it. And yes; I'm disappointed that there are a seldom few authors who have incorporated this idea to their writing that Hiccup is mentally and physically handicapped by his would-have-been companion. It's a controversial very tough project that I'm writing here and it may offend some people in many ways. Good thing I'm not a POC or a nutty Social Justice warrior. Haha! Those guys are the worst. ;) I've already had some crazy Tumblr girl named Elusivist sending me messages and rounding up some of her colleagues to call me a** ** _rape supporter_** **, apparently because she read my story, "Mishap by Mug". And it triggered her or something? Even though it has absolutely NOTHING to do with sexual assault? I don't wanna know what goes on in her head and I'm not interested in finding out. And to answer your question I have written out an entire chapter of explanations. Enjoy! ;) Ps: Thanks! I worked for hours to complete the cover art. PPS: you want Toothless dead? *smirks* Perhaps...**

 **NONAME : I KNOW RIGHT IT WAS BRUTAL BECAUSE I LIKE BEING BRUTAL TO MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS. IT IS A very enjoyable passTIME of mine, because not only is it an incredibly fun topic to write about but I think that our beloved VIKING needs a bit more torture in his life. And yes I understand that that sounds undeniably cruel but that's just the way life works in this day and age. Thanks for your review! It always warms my heart to hear from you!**

 **Midnightsky0612** **: I'm so happy that you think so! Those ARE the emotions I want to evoke from my readers when they take a gander at this particular story. Stay tuned! I promise you that there will be a lot more intensity, heartbreak, and other interesting plot points. And your still shocked that the Nightfury did that to Hiccup? I'm not. After all, it IS the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself, and dragons ALWAYS go for the kill. ;)**

 **thismonstrosity** **: Alas, I can neither chillax nor reduce the gore. Not only would that stray from the plot, but it's too late. I already wrote everything down that I wanted to and I ain't about to tone it down because a little numbnut can't take it. But thank you for your input, dude. I truly appreciate the considerations.**

 **Vanossmoose** **: ...Did you really just? Well, I guess I can forgive you, because that is a rockin' username. *presses one***

 **KittyKatKlocks** **: ...That's quite an unfortunate username you have there! You are aware that the letter "C" exists, right? I don't know if you've ever tried to abbreviate the name, but I don't think you'd really like to be walking around with a K.K.K.. Anyway, thank you so much for your kind words! Name aside, you're so sweet. ^^**

 **Enterna1Soldier** **: Thanks man! It's true though: I have always been a major fan of tragic stories like these, not just because they're violent (and I like reading stuff that's very violent) but because what happens to the characters afterward. It is always so interesting to see how they cope with the situation they were in and how they try to function afterwards. Writing Hiccup's character after he's gone through some major traumatic experience is tricky, but not impossible. Great care must be taken in order to fulfill this goal of mine, and I've been doing a lot of research on mentality and PTSD, which is what Hiccup (unfortunately) has, in order to be accurate, but open to run twists. I.E.: his delusions and hallucinations. It's tragic, but it's very interesting to write. I'm so glad that you took the time to read the story and I'm VERY flattered that you like it too! Thanks so much for reviewing! I love hearing from you! ;)**

 **Spacamez** **: I can assure you with the upmost clarity and sincerity that there will be many more hand puns. It's only a matter of time before my cruel sense of humor overtakes the story and it will be in Hiccup's favor, I can tell you that right now. Thank you for your time!**

 **Noname** **: Oh my gosh, you are one of the sweetest folks I've ever seen. You like ALL of my stories? Even the Fanboy and Chum Chum ones? The ones that I wrote when I was like 12? I have to say, that's a real nice thing to hear, bro!**

 **Guest** **(chapter 2): Thats okay if you are confused about the dream sequence Hiccup had in the beginning of chapter two, which I will explain to you right now! The dream sequence itself was supposed to be sort of a combination of visual representations with the surgical process of amputating his hand, coupled with the original attack of the night fury, and a collection of even more gruesome imagery that his mentally broken psyche created. I hope that answers your question.**

 **JohnnyLee619** **: There is definitely going to be a lot more Nightfury in this chapter, as well as in the next few. I intend for him to be a much bigger part of the story then just "the animal that hurt the main character and will be out of it for the rest of the plot". I hope you all like dragon meat because we're going to be eating** ** _that_** **for dinner.**

 **TheForsakenTwist** **: Hiccup has indeed gone under a mental lapse, and it is up to the heroes of Berk to snap some sense into him! Haha! Just kidding. But seriously, somebody had better do something quick before he goes completely bonkers and kills someone...or something.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the franchise that I'm currently writing about. It belongs to its respective creators, so PEACE OUT.**

 **...**

 ** _Chapter Three_**

 _Stony. Murky. Hungry. Sore._

 _*_ chuff _*_

 _Dark. Ache. Stiff. Hurt._

 _*_ chuff _*_

 _Tired. Sad. Ireful._ _ **Caught**_ _._

Behind the thick, impenetrable wooden doors within Berk's famous training ring, contained a chained, ravenous, and Nightfury, very cross over its apprehend. It shifted. The humans had shown no mercy, as usual (save for keeping it alive), and it had the gashes, bruises, and cracked bones to show for it.

Now it was trapped in this miserable place with only dust mites for company, the only comforting sounds audible for him to hear were the soft gurgles of the other confined dragons. The Nightfury chuffed every so often to dissemble the dust that constantly settled on his snout. Its paws flexed, involuntarily moving to try and groom its dusty maw, but the studded leather confines denied him to.

How long had it been there...? Not long, considering that it hadn't been executed yet. But it would only be a matter of time before that happened. The dragon knew this. It knew it was in trouble when his tasty lunch's alpha appeared, swinging and hollering with a rage that could surpass the dragons' own queen.

He should've known that the sire would come to protect its young. Unwilling to take a metal bit to the head, the reptile had retreated back into the woods where he assumed no human would ever find him, considering that they weren't very good at pursuing without the marvelous noses and ears that most animals had.

But alas, deprived of his ability to fly-a recent, dire insight that shocked him to the point of gnawing at his own tail in a panicked frenzy-he was unable to successfully escape his hunters. He hated the irony that the tables had been turned. That he, the hunter, was now being hunted. Hopefully fate wouldn't be so cruel as to put the "butcher just got butched" catchphrase into his bout of unfair circumstances.

And so he waited alone, unblinking in the dark, staring intently at the doors, yearning someone to open them and let in some light. Although it was unlikely, he could only hope that the alpha wouldn't punish him for hurting (and possibly killing) his young.

...

Three weeks later...

It took much more than convincing for Hiccup to conclusively gain the courage to travel yonder the protective (stifling, in Stoick's opinion) walls of his home and out into the open air. Meticulous as ever, he took days to plan, analyze, and frantically worry before Stoick took it upon himself to convince his son to do it, rather than let the boy take the time to convince himself. His wounds had healed substantially, including his throat, allowing him to speak again, although he seldom did it nowadays.

When Hiccup did vacate the Haddock household, he left through the exit in the back rather than the entrance in the front, and Stoick watched him leave with a resigned sigh before burying his weary face in his hands. Gods... What was he going to do about that boy? As eccentric as he'd always been, Stoick never thought it would come to this extreme. He'd never been so...isolated. Well, maybe the presence of other people would settle his nerves, the man reasoned, trying to be positive.

Hiccup stood stock-still outside his home, his right hand still clutching the door handle like a vice, and it took three solid minuets to release that alone. He stared at the door, considering sneaking back in when his father left. He wouldn't be hurting anybody but himself by doing it.

Why risk whatever was left of his dignity to the prying eyes of his fellow tribe members on the off chance that this would somehow reduce his insanity? Why? He was marked terribly deep by the many public embarrassments he'd had to endure between he and his father, and he wasn't about to yield his vulnerable self once again to the inquisitive, gossipy Vikings of his village, _especially_ not to his teenage counterparts (deeming them colleagues was generous enough). Sure, he'd be deemed a tremendous coward for refusing to face his fears, but what was one more name to add to the ever-growing list of names?

Sighing nervously, Hiccup crossed his arms as best he could and carefully leaned against the side of the house, staring listlessly at the white, cloudy sky. Not one ray of sunshine, a normality.

" _Nothing to worry about,_ " he assured himself. " _Nothing. Nothing to worry about. Everything is fine. Everything is normal. We're normal_ -"

"- _We're not!"_ His other half wailed, causing his hair to stand up on end.

No. N-No!

" _Get back in the house!"_

"Sh-Shut up," Hiccup hissed, covering one of his ears with one hand and instinctively knocking his stump into the other _. "I'm not-"_

 _"You're as good as dragon lunch if you stay out here!"_

" **STOP**!" Hiccup shouted, so suddenly and loudly, coupled with slamming the back of his head against the house, effectively cutting off his pestering paranoia. "Please," he repeated, quivering as much as his sanity. "I...I can't..."

His stiff fingers flexed, almost involuntarily. His nerves were shot. " _Well, it isn't as if I was sane before."_ He debated miserably. " _The village's probably having a good laugh right now. Ha! See everyone?! Hiccup hasn't changed!"_

Again, and without clear reason, he slammed his head back against the wall, letting out a noise that founded like a sob-like laugh. Or a laugh-like sob.

 _"Heh! It's only on the outside!"_ He insisted. _"The outside may be filled with as many cuts and gashes as a fine steak dinner, but we assure you, everyone, inside is what counts!"_

 **Slam** _._

 _"...My insides BECAME my outsides. Do you know that?"_

 **Slam** _._ Hiccup closed his emerald eyes and did it again. He didn't know why.

" _I dunno. Why should I do this? I'm bruised enough. What's a few more?"_

 **Slam.**

 _"Why am I doing this?"_

 **Slam**.

" _What's behind the edge of the world?"_

 **Slam**.

" _What's the matter with me_?"

 **Slam**.

 _"Why is it green?"_

 **Slam**.

" _I've been turned inside out, so are-?"_

" **Hiccup**!" The boy froze, his stomach clenching. From inside the house, Stoick called to him with muffled annoyance, though his anger was palpable. "Stop that infernal kicking!" He scolded. "You're going to displace the panels and I'm going to hafta fix 'em. Now, go on to the forge like Ah told yeh!"

An involuntary twitch prompted Hiccup to thrust his head back one last time. A gentler slam against the panels, as an act of defiance before he slid down and rested against the side of the house with his knees painfully pulled up to his scarred face. The movement caused a slight twinge of pain to rouse in his hip area, but it was mild compared to his shoulder, chest, and back. Luckily, his wounds had healed enough so that he could maneuver around without hurting himself that much. But Gothi advised him to take it easy for the time being, just to be safe. She didn't want him to tear out his stitches, as it would lead to infection and further injury.

For a long time, he made neither noise nor impulse to move. His mind had clouded over, expelling any logical key left, replacing it with an empty blankness. His insides felt like a hot sludge and his remaining hand and feet felt clammy.

 _"I let everyone down, didn't I?"_ He whispered, his eyes growing hot with salty tears. " _I set that thing free. I'm endangering people's lives... They would all hate me if they knew what I did...not that they already don't, but still..."_

It was sad and quite alarming that he refused to accept to the fascination of the village as a reality. For the past several weeks, all that had been circuiting in Berk's grapevine was the matter of Hiccup, Chief Stoick, and the Nightfury. And by Thor, they were more than impressed.

For so long, Hiccup had been a thorn in everyone's side. A nuisance. A trouble-brewer. Coupled with crazy intricate machinery that nearly always spawned mass destruction, and his unrealistic goals to gain acceptance, he was always and presumed to always be: an annoyance. However, as long as the Chief loved him, they would have to endure and mentally prepare themselves for when he became chief.

Of course, nobody minded him on a _personal_ level. Nobody quite disliked his personality-despite his sarcastic quips, he could be charmingly kind when he wanted to be-but as the old saying went, "actions speak louder than words".

What he had done to that menace of an animal by bringing it down both puzzled and fascinated them. Fascinated that he not only managed to take it down on his own and one of his inventions actually worked, but that he survived its aggression, and although their chief had chased it off all by himself to save his son, they were nonetheless impressed by his stamina, his _will_ to survive. It wasn't every day that one would see a Nightfury and live to tell the tale.

In fact, it was _unheard_ of! So much so that many had pointed out that they needed to add a few new passages to the Nightfury section of the Dragon Manual.

According to the expert warriors, dragons of lower stamina were difficult enough to take down (save for the Terrible Terrors) if you already were a muscled fellow, but for a creature of Hiccup's caliber to rout a _Nightfury_? Again, it was _unheard_ of. It was unbelievable, implausible, and promising for younger children who yearned to protect their village.

For Hiccup to brush the possibility of extoll off as a delusion without even considering it… It was so unlike him, because he was known to be a very observant (albeit careless) person. If these had been under ordinary circumstances, with his sanity restored and his paranoia boiled down to a minimum, he would have been antedating these sorts of responses, and would have absorbed whatever praise he could with great liberation.

…But instead of taking said possibilities into account or even hoping for them to become realities, he sunk deep down into his self-created visualization of everybody incessantly sneering down upon him from his or her great height and laugh. Laugh at his foolishness. Laugh at his failures. Laugh at his corporal state. It wasn't as if he didn't deserve it, after all. He set free a demon, hastily, intentionally, and _willingly_.

It didn't matter that he was injured. Warriors deserved no sympathy, he was taught. They were discouraged against coddling like some sort of mainlander child (although Stoick had broken the taboo quite a few times during his son's bed rest).

He was taught that society would never change to specifically conform to his needs; _he_ needed to step up and strive to meet the strains of _society_. A good lesson for spoiled melodramatics, but nonetheless… Meeting his society halfway was something that Hiccup had been trying his hardest to do all his life, but to no avail. But calling it unfair was not his jurisdiction. It was _life_. While it worked out for others, it didn't do so much for him. He had no _right_.

But still, he fretted.

Gods, it was so stupid, and Hiccup knew it. Which was why this situation was more frustrating than it needed to be. It was this newfound paranoia that was making it all...bad. It made him fear the comforting things in life, like proximity to other human beings, verbal exchanges between family members, or just enjoying the outdoors. He didn't think he could handle any one of those now. Not when he was in trapped with this gut wrenching apprehension.

And the irony wasn't lost on him. It was ironic that after going through all this trouble to bring down a Nightfury and moderately succeeding, he was forcing himself to believe that the masses would be unimpressed.

...And that's what confused the rational side of him. Why did a part of him believe that they would not be impressed with him? He'd brought down a Nightfury! A _Nightfury_!

"And then you set it free!" He chastised himself, cringing at the thought. Nobody knew that little detail yet. Not his father, not Gobber, not the teens, nobody. If they found out what he had done... He shivered. There would be harsh repercussions for siding with the enemy, even momentarily.

"Well...it doesn't matter now," he mumbled. "They'll never accept me anyway."

 **STOP**.

Was he too far deep in the downward spiral to always believe that just because his name was attached to something, it immediately made it worthless and bad? Was his paranoia preventing him from considering a positive aspect of the situation? All signs pointed yes, but even after coming to this conclusion, he still couldn't come to a resolve. When his mind was disoriented as it was, it was difficult to come up with the proper plan of action, especially about something that he and his era did not understand.

In short, what was he suppose to do about it? It wasn't as if he could just talk to his father about it; after all, he would never understand.

He couldn't bear the burden of accepting this new part of him, because he hated it. He hated it. He HATED it. Not only did it give the impression that he was a weakling, but it wasn't who he was. Yet it acted as a sentient being and could overtake his entire thought process in a matter of moments-at any time!

What would everyone think if they saw this new side of him? Vikings were superstitious beings; if he came across as insane or immoderately behaved, they could ship him off for fear he'd been possessed.

" _Why take a chance?"_ The paranoia whispered.

Hiccup thought for a long moment and sighed. His dignity and pride had been cast aside long ago. If the village thought any less of him when he approached them in his new disheveled form, what would it do? It would seem that nothing had changed. And if the possibility of praise did ever cross his mind, he would shamefully discharge it, for who could ever extoll _him_? It didn't matter what he did!

Anticipating the worst, his hastily created plan was to eventually overcome this internal pain and walk to them without a care. Calmly. Quietly. Clean. Before long, if he kept quiet enough to disappear, his situation would fade from memory, just like his paranoia (hopefully) would overtime. He never divulged this to his father, believing in his heart that the man was incapable of understanding.

Oh, and speaking of the paranoia, it hadn't dissolved one bit. It had been a straight week since the discovery of his missing left hand, the hand that he used for just about everything: drawing, writing, wielding a weapon, and carrying just about anything heavy from a woven basket of fruit to a gleaming sword and shield, but he was still unsuccessful at mollifying his intermittent nerves.

He quaked compulsorily, tucking the severed appendage beneath his other limb, hiding it from sight. " _Well, this was stupid_ ," he thought with disgust.

"I wanna go back inside."

 _"Then go! If you're that terrified of people-"_

"Wha-? I—No! No, not of people. The Nightfury."

 _"..."_

"...It's true!"

 _"You don't think it may be both...?"_

Hiccup shook the thoughts away and tugged morosely at his collar, where the appalling scar lay daunting. He closed his eyes in disgust and turned to bury his face in his hand. Crum, he couldn't even get a cool-looking scar to show off! Scars were meant to be signs of strength, to be gawked at with reverence, with awe! They usually weren't supposed to evoke feelings of arbitrary disgust. Perhaps that would have been his case if it weren't so gruesome. Then again, there weren't as many amputees in the village, so maybe some would be interested-...

A shocked grin of disbelief stretched over his face and he quickly dissipated the notion. Was he _that_ desperate for attention that he was hoping that not as many had similar grievances? Not for their sake, but _his_? How pitifully embarrassing. How selfish!

" _Really, Hiccup_?" He scoffed at himself, rocking back and forth on his heels. " _You're better than this. Far better than to-to subject yourself to be comparing your own crippled self to the others who heroically earned theirs."_

"Hiccup, if yer not down the hill by the count of ten, Ah'm going to _personally_ escort you down," came the warning call of his father.

"K-Kay Dad!" Yes. He nodded once, jerkily, and peered carefully down at the plaza from around the corner of his home. "Gods, what are you so afraid of?" He inquired under his breath. "Just _go_! The worst they can do to you in public is IGNORE you." With even this in mind, he didn't move. His heart pounded, his legs quaked subtly, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

" _Why? Why can't I do this one simple thing?!"_ He screamed at himself, bashing his forehead against the side of the house out of hysterical frustration. "Ow..." Great, now he was going to bruise AGAIN.

He knew this was going to be a bad idea. "No!" He whispered. It was a good idea! It was good! It was good for him. Gothi had "said" so. Gobber had said so. His father said so.

Strangely enough, it _had_ been Stoick who enforced his son to leave the premises of their home, not because he disliked the company, but because Hiccup was showing profuse signs of an unnatural state of mind that he had never seen before the attack. Not the "hiccup-y unnatural" he had come to know and amuse, but...a "disturbingly odd unnatural".

It wasn't gradual either. What started as cringes, flickering eye-movements, and an outright dull appearance, had quickly escalated to constant night-terrors that he himself had to subdue, anxiety, self-blaming sessions in which Hiccup would expel all of his guilty words on paper, panic attacks that abruptly appeared out of the blue and could sometimes last for hours, and the fear of being away from his sire, which concerned Stoick more than anything. And this was all coming from _Hiccup_ ; the sarcastic witty introvert that spent most of his time calmly and quietly reminiscing in the forge with his mentor. And that was normality-for Hiccup. The new side of him-this paranoid, skittish, clingy version of his son was somebody Stoick would never have expected to be portrayed by the calm boy he knew.

It-It just wasn't natural. Which was why he was the one urging his son to take at least one step outside into the fresh air, to inhale a breath of his former day-to-day life. To talk to _someone_ other than he and Gobber. To take his mind off of the Nightfury-which his men had at last captured and put into confinement in the ring.

Hiccup had repudiated the proposal, of course, being just as hardheaded and stubborn as his father, but Stoick wasn't one to back down to anyone or anything.

"You're going outside sooner or later," the man firmly instigated a few days prior over the breakfast table-or that's what he had deemed the hearth. Hiccup mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and stared listlessly at his bowl of gruel, his right hand awkwardly clutching a wooden spoon, his left arm hidden on his lap. Stoick tapped his boot impatiently.

"It's not good for ya t' be cooped up in here," he went on. "And you need to make up for lost time at the forge." He waited for the enervated boy to reply before hastily adding, "You haven't forgotten, haven't you? Gobber misses his apprentice. Remember? He can't possibly fill all the quotas on his own."

Hiccup bit his lip at that, evidentially guilty about that despite his mental state.

Caught up in the idea, Stoick got careless with his words, which was why he said what he said next.

"He's gettin' older, son, and the number of people on this island are expanding." He paused. "Which means the number of quotas is going to grow. He isn't going to be able to take care of everything by himself. Ah'm sure could hold up for a while, but he's human. And like a normal human, he needs a helping hand every now and then."

Hiccup's eye twitched. "Oh, _really_?" he mumbled, carelessly thrusting the spoon into the bowl. "A helping _hand._ Didn't realize…"

Stoick winced, having been unable to catch himself in time for the words to pass his lips. "Erm, yah," he hastily replied, and then straightened.

A wrong choice of words wasn't going to discourage him from making his point. "Ye know what Ah mean. He needs you again. His helper! His right-hand man-Oh, for Thor's _SAKE_!" He could've slammed his face into the gruel he was eating if his son weren't there. "Again, ye know what Ah mean. Get out there and make a-a designer hand! Ye could do that if yeh could construct a-erm, bola-thrower."

"Bola- _launcher_ ," Hiccup flatly corrected, aimlessly stirring his watery gruel.

This was just getting sad.

" _Splendid. The all-mighty sentient chief strikes again_ ," Stoick thought sarcastically. " _Vast-man and fishbone-boy battle it out for the millionth time until one of us gives in."_

Expelling a very frustrated sigh, he reminded himself that THIS was the reason he didn't like to verbally exchange with his son. He always ended up saying the wrong thing and encouraged the exact opposite from his listened from what he was intending. And Hiccup was so _stubborn_...

Hiccup blinked and absently frowned at his now foamy gruel. Stoick impatiently awaited his response. "Maybe...m-maybuh later..." He finally mumbled, clenching unsteadily at the spoon in his right hand and taking a large mouthful of gruel.

"I insist," Stoick said in a low tone, reaching out to put his hand under Hiccup's chin and tilt his head up to meet eye-to-eye. "You're going."

"...Dad-"

"Deal?"

Closing his eyes at the memory, Hiccup took a deep breath and took a few cautious steps in the direction that would lead him to the forge, his only place of interest.

"Deal…"

" _Well_ ," he debated, " _I have the rest of my life to learn how to use my right hand, and if I can manage to do that, then I can forge some sort of special prosthetic to aid myself."_

What frustrated Hiccup most was not that he had an abundance of ideas that he needed to transfer from his mind to the forge, but that he couldn't take updated notes so that he could remember them. And the span of a week was plenty of time for his to think and forget and fear the eyes of the Nightfury-

 ** _STOP_**.

Hiccup visibly winced, clenching his fist and gritting his crooked teeth in anger. It wouldn't stop. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how he distracted himself-the Nightfury always managed to invade his fragile thought process and send him into a frenzy of paranoia. Like now.

The teenager spun around to gaze wide-eyed at the line of woodland trees so close to his home in fear, as if the aforementioned dragon was suddenly going to leap from the brush, pin him down, and tear him limb from scrawny limb.

 **Stop**. For Goddesses' sake, this was _not_ the time!

" _It's not here. It's in the ring,"_ he thought, tending his body so hard that a vein might've popped in the process. He ran his remaining hand through his hair, peaked with sweat, and sucked in a thin wisp of air. " _I'm safe. I'm safe."_ He assured himself, albeit unconvincingly. "Thor! _I'm fine. It's not coming. It's not coming-!"_

 _"_ _ **How do you know it's not?!**_ _"_ The other half wailed. " _By Freya, it could be waiting the brush stalking ya at this very moment! You have to get back in the house! Get back in the house! Dad'll protect ya! He'll keep you safe!"_

Hiccup let out a choked gurgle of a protest, looking wildly from the brush, to his house, to the plaza, and made the hasty decision to make a rash break for it. After all, the last thing he wanted was to lose another limb.

A growl sent him running, and despite the pain and limp in his hipbone, he managed to achieve a decent speed. In fact, it took him a few mere seconds to get from his home to the plaza. He didn't stop to reply to the confused cries of alarm or the calls of concern from the nearby villagers as he unsteadily sped through the plaza.

It was getting closer! He choked through the copious notes of fear overtaking his voice. He could hear the gnashing of teeth, the beating wings, the snarls, the tendrils of smoke expelling through the nostrils-he could see the jade eyes _-they were right behind him!_

With an unmanly shriek, Hiccup leapt the last couple of feet through the entrance of the forge, grabbed his apron, streaking past a surprised Gobber in the process, and flew over a stranded shield.

"Whoa! Hiccup! Where's th' fire?!" Gobber gasped, his bated concern for his novice amassed as the boy threw himself into the back room, leaving the man gaping where he stood.

"...Um..." Sheepishly turning on his heel, Gobber glowered at the dumbfounded crowd of people that had stopped in their tracks upon witnessing their future chief hysterically running from...nothing. "Alright!" He shouted to break the tension. "Vacate the premises, yeh rubberneckers! Nothin' to see here! Move along if ye ain't buying something."

The people began to hesitantly expand, but not without letting out many excited, shocked whispers concerning the aforementioned heir. Luckily for Hiccup's snapping psyche, he wasn't around to witness them.

"Didja see 'im?" A burly man by the name of Ingerman whispered to his friend, who nodded with unease. "A sorry mess, that's what he is! Lords, that beast must've been ruthless! It's amazing he's still all in one piece!"

"Yah, it's far beyond words." Whispered another.

"Had he any weapons on him during the attack? Spear?"

"A measly whittling knife is all I heard," Thorston called out. "Chief told Spitelout yesterday."

"Sure did!"

People stared at the forge where the boy resided, in amazement. "A whittling knife?" One murmured. "But we've seen th' dragon; that beast surely meant business. It wasn't sickly...?"

"Nah; it's a younger class," someone answered. "Bjorn helped restrain it. He told me."

"Oh! Well then it must've been very aggressive."

"...Jah. No kidding."

"Aggressive indeed! He's lost his hand..."

"Really?" The crowd shuddered while a dainty few covered their mouths with shock.

"Oh...how awful!" A woman moaned, glancing down at her own amputated arm. It was easy for her to sympathize. "That must've hurt beyond belief, and for a person his age t' go through such a-."

"Bah, he'll get over it," a rather pretentious voice cut above the ones of sympathy, awe, and concern. It was Gunnar, the man who'd been ordered to fetch the healer when Stoick had first appeared in town with his mangled son cradled in his large arms. "Missin' limbs aren't a rarity this day and age. Yeh get 'em, yeh live with 'em, yeh move on."

A few of the eavesdroppers took that into consideration, but most of them just glared at the shepherd for being so insensitive, one of them being a certain blacksmith. "Gunnar!" The ladies scolded. "That's rich coming from ye!"

Gunnar held up his hands in defense. "Whoa! Don't gang up on me now." And to his friends, he muttered, "Odin, if _that_ mistake is what Ah'm goin' t' take order from one day, I might as well join the Berserker tribe."

"That so? Ah've personally made reservations for Outcast island already! Start now, while Stoick's gears are still spinnin'!"

Gobber outright snarled at the group and slammed his prosthetic hammer for a hand onto the counter, causing them to glance his direction in hangdog surprise.

"Ah'll admit," he coolly interpolated, "I've prayed that Odin should watch over us with great care when Hiccup ascends his title, but if I should have to throw someone to the outcasts to perform a civil service to the people of Berk right now, it'd be you, Gunnar the Quaint." He pointed to the man, the one who'd "signed up" for the Berserkers, causing him to grumble.

"A civil service indeed," one of the men snickered, earning himself a punch on the shoulder.

Gobber shook his head. "Quaint, my _axe_. Some mighty Vikings _you_ are, pokin' fun at a child. And not just any child, but one who's gazed into the eyes of lightning and death itself and lived to tell the tale. Ah've got to admit, you're a lot more pathetic than yeh look, yeh sorry sods."

A few bystanders who'd overheard the quip stifled snickers behind their hands, and knowing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with the furious blacksmith (who in fact he didn't want to anger, since he was the one mending his axe) Gunnar rolled his eyes and vacated the premises of the forge with his counterparts in tow.

"He looked like he saw a ghost," a woman commented to her group of friends, who tittered shamelessly as they unknowingly passed Gobber. "He IS a ghost! Didja see how pale he was? Looks like he hasn't seen the sun in _ages_."

"That's to be expected," Mulch called. "He's done something that no Viking in three hundred years has ever done," he paused for effect, "he downed a Nightfury!"

"-And got completely destroyed!" Someone called back.

"What difference does it make?" A woman questioned. "He lived, did he not?"

"Because Chief had to save him-as usual."

Gobber rolled his eyes at their shamelessly silly observations and hobbled over to the back room.

"Hiccup?" He called, squeezing himself through the door. "Ye alright?" He was quite flabbergasted, to say the least, to find his apprentice hiding beneath his desk, knees up to his chest and rocking back and forth on his heels. "Hiccup," he whispered, dropping to his knees before the boy. "For Thor's sake, what's got ya like this?!"

Emerald met sapphire and the fear within the orbs were beyond anything he'd ever seen. "I-Is it gone?" Hiccup whispered, the odd inquire causing Gobber to read back, but before he could question it, Hiccup stiffly shook his head. "N-No. It's not real. It's stupid. Stupid question. Stupid, stupid, stupid..." It was more to himself than his mentor, the mindless chant.

Gobber never had imagined that someday he would be witnessing the deterioration of Hiccup's mental stability, and although he failed to see if that way, it frightened him nonetheless. "Lad, perhaps you should-..." He stopped himself and forced on a brisk smile. "Never mind. C'mon, out from under the desk.

Hiccup didn't move, and he awkwardly scrunched up tighter.

"Hiccup, c'mon. Ah need yer help!"

Oh. Well, if THAT was the case…

Although there was a bout of resistance plaguing the young Viking, Gobber was miraculously able to take the boy's hand in his own and gently maneuver him out from his hiding place. Hiccup was especially hesitant to comply, especially with Nightfury hunting h-

 **STOP**. Deep breath. Deep breath. **Don't panic.** It's not real. **It's not real.**

"Hiccup? Hiccup!"

The boy in question abruptly snapped out of his internal battle to the sound of his very concerned mentor's voice. He peered up at him through shameful eyes. He hadn't meant to freak out the way he did. "I... Ah-Uh, I'm sorry about that, Gobber," he awkwardly apologized, his stomach clenching with guilt in a most grotesque way. "I-I honestly don't know why that's been happening... It's...It's weird, but-...I-I don't know."

Gobber just stared at him, unconsciously dropping the boy's hand from his own. Something fishy was going on, and he wasn't the oblivious type, so of course he picked up on it in a flash. Hiccup was not only a mess on the outside, but it seemed to Gobber that his internal mentality was in shambles as well. And just like before, Hiccup tried to be impassive, but he was too far-gone at the moment to try and mask the paranoia painted onto his colorless face.

"It's like he's been through a bloody war," Gobber contemplated, "and he's gone mad with memory! How...awful. Well, Ah'm sure Stoick's takin' care of..." The man closed his eyes. It was no secret that the Chief wasn't exactly the sentient type (outside of war meetings, speeches, and other tribal-related matters) but he could settle violent disputes without breaking a sweat! The only problem was that he greatly lacked in the field of diplomacy. (Something tagged Gobber even admitted to lack).

Gobber was unsure what to do other than distract the boy with work, which worked for a little bit on the outside, but on the inside, Hiccup was _screaming_.

...

Stoick briskly approached the ring, his already thunderous complexion and internal psyche darkening as knew what lay ahead. Luckily for him, no one was currently present at the said arena. Good. He had a few things that he needed to take care of.

When he first entered the circular ring, it was dubiously quiet, save for the soft rumbles and growls emitting from each and every one of the gigantic doors. Five in total, the stood sturdily, preventing the monsters behind them to exit into the outside world.

Stoick paused, scanning over the doors with harshly narrowed eyes, his entire body rigid with anger that had been brewing within him ever since he'd first found his son a bloody mangled mess.

He sucked in a breath of finality and muttered, "No turning back," to himself. Head held high, the man marched over to the gargantuan metal door on the far left, the one that withheld his greatest adversary. His hated enemy.

Snarling softly, he reached for and pulled the lever that locked the door in place, releasing the planks and loosening the hinges. Once completed, he slipped inside the dark, small area.

In the center of said area, a creature chuffed, and growled warningly at the approaching human. It had been horrible enough to not only lose his tasty lunch of a human and his tail fin, but to be subjected to this kind of confinement angered it to no end. It growled again, shifting uncomfortably in the stocks, it's ears flattening against its head.

Feeling especially vengeful upon being informed that his men had at last captured the Nightfury, Stoick made sure that not only was the beast to be locked up, but to be securely confined to a stock, which trapped its head, forelegs, and wings. It's jaw was forced shut by a muzzle, forced on by Gobber himself, who was also the one who held a furious Stoick from killing the dragon right then and there.

"Enjoying yer time here?" Stoick growled, balling his large hands into fists as the dragon eyed him with the same hate that he'd given his son. "Ah hope ye burn in Helheim after Ah'm through with yeh. It's the least you deserve after what you've done to mah son."

The dragon narrowed its jade eyes and bared its teeth, drawing the man nearer as his rage increased tremendously. "Ye _crippled_ him, devil!" Stoick roared, remembering the glazed, listless glint in his son's once bright, emerald eyes. "Yeh've destroyed his spirit!" The dragon, of course, gave no verbal response, but the chief couldn't have cared less.

"And because of that," he barked with an air of promise. "Ah'm goin' to destroy _you_." He stepped forward and hooked his blunt fingernails beneath the cusp of one of the scales of the dragon's backside. "...Bit..."

 _Tear_. The dragon screeched, a bloody patch of skin replacing the spot from where Stoick had forcefully ripped out a scale.

"...by bit..." Another scale. Another ear-splitting screech. The dragon jerked, straining against the metallic stocks, but they held fast. Stoick watched with vengeful satisfaction and hooked his fingers under yet another scale near the dragon's nape.

"...by bit..." He sneered this time, and instead of quickly removing the scale, he tugged at his gradually, leisurely peeling away the outer layer until the dragon was a grip writhing and screaming at his hand.

"...By **_BIT_**!" An eerie smile spread over the man's gruff face, and he delivered a knuckled-fist to the side of the dragon's snout, causing it to try to snap at him, but the muzzle prevented it from doing much of anything. "Until yer nothin' but a sorry pile o' scales." He tossed the sleek object aside without a second thought, watching it clatter to the stone floor.

During its descent, he caught sight of the dragon's claws and inhaled sharply. They were magnificent, large and razor sharp, but that didn't capture his attention as quite as much as the stains. Upon closer inspection, he realized that they the stains were none other than dried blood. His stomach clenched.

His son's blood.

Stoick went white with rage.

 _It_ chuffed, blinking unsteadily as Stoick forcefully rammed his large fist into the maw a second time, with much more brutal force than the first. "Eh!? Yeh don't like how that feels!?" He hissed, allowing his pent-up fury and hatred direct his fists to the face of the reptile. With every suckered punch, he barked at the beast.

"Don't like it!?"

 _Slug_.

"What!?"

 _Slug_.

"Does it hurt, Devil!?"

A mighty kick this time, to the unprotected ribcage, causing the Nightfury to retch.

"Ye deserve this!"

 _Slug_.

"You're a monster."

 _Slug_.

"A beast!"

 _Kick_.

"A pathetic-" _Slug_. "-disgusting-" _Slug_. "-BEAST!"

As the rain of fists barraged the vulnerable reptile, it's roars and growls gradually began to diminish, whines and whimpers of pain taking their place. Stoick took immediate notice of them and bared his teeth. "Oh, yer hurting? Would yeh like me t' **stop**?" He asked, with mock concern, punctuating the end of his sentence by digging his fingernails into the dragon's jaw. "Would yeh like me t' show a bit o' mercy? Hm?"

The Nightfury let out a tiny warble that escalated to a loud screech as Stoick yanked off yet another scale. "Well, too bad! The tables have turned and now it's yer time t' suffer."

Oh, he greatly enjoyed the pleasure in beating his son's tormentor. In fact, he _reveled_ in the dragon's pain. Every scream, every moan, and every cry granted him a vengeful satisfaction that he hadn't felt before in his lifetime. It was incredible.

"This is for Hiccup!" He bellowed, jabbing his thick fingers into the dragon's vulnerable eye. It screamed with agony and the eyelids closed around his finger, the burning sensation more than it could take. After a few seconds, he removed his fingers.

"This _is for_ Hiccup," he internally repeated, pausing to take a deep breath in a failed attempt to soothe his erratic nerves. " _This is for my_ son _. My legacy, who brought down this beast. He succeeded and was mauled for it. But now, I'm going to avenge him."_

"You...are a DEMON who has _plagued_ my village, has _stolen_ from our families," he wailed, remembering his beloved wife who'd been carried off by the beasts. "...Has killed my subjects, and has MAIMED MY SON!" He roared. Taking the dragon's flopping ear folds in both hands, he yanked at them and leaned back, providing a start as he slammed his heavy boot into the monster's snout, causing a sickening _crunch_ to emit from the area.

"PLAGUE US NO LONGER, FOUL **_BEAST!"_** He screamed, his astoundingly deafening voice echoing out of the room and bouncing along the circumference of the ring. After that, there was a short silence. Stoick wiped his hands breathlessly on his tunic, as if the mere touch of the beast would inflict some sort of curse on him.

The dragon was hanging limply in the stocks, which creaked under its weight but held it securely. It's face was littered with bruises that Stoick couldn't see, but knew they laid under the scales. It's eye-the one the am had driven his fingers into-was still closed. If luck was on his side, the creature would become blind in that eye.

Good. It deserved whatever fate Stoick decided upon it.

"This is just the beginning, Devil," he hissed into the ear of the dragon, which hissed at him. "Yeh think this hurts now? Oh-ho; just wait until yeh feel what Ah've got in store for us. Ye'll regret the day yeh ever injured my boy-no, ye'll regret the day you _hatched_."

After delivering one last blow to the snout of the Nightfury, which was now moaning with pain, he turned on his heels and stomped out of the room, a fit of devastation overtaking his heart, and exhilaration coupled with a batch of absolute hatred consuming his mind. He couldn't imagine a sounder sense of contempt he had for anyone that could surpass that of the contempt he had for his son's maimer.

Those oddly large, expressive jade eyes showed absolutely no remorse for what it had done. Of course, what else could he expect from an unintelligent animal? Perhaps that is what fueled his hatred even more so.

Upon his exit, he happened to stalk by a couple of bystanders, the men required to feed and provide necessities for the dragons. They eyed the hulking figure with cautious curiosity.

"Chief?" Murmured one of the men, catching the attention of the being in question.

Stoick took a gander at the baskets stuffed full of fish they'd brought for the monsters to eat, and he jerked a thumb at the Nightfury's pen. "Yeh can forget about feeding _that_ one," he told them gruffly. "Ah have other plans for it."

The wary eyes of the men widened, but they quickly complied without question. "Aye, sir," the other man assured. "We'll skip that one." There was a moment of silence. "I-If yeh don't mind me askin' what plans yeh have in mind for it...?"

Stoick could have grinned if he weren't so angry. Plans? Plans?! Oh, he had plans. Big plans. Plans reserved for the Nightfury only. And by Odin, he was going to make the most of them-not for himself, but for his son.

The men awaited his answer expectantly.

"Just...expect a certain ceremony to be held here come Thorsday." Stoick turned to them solemnly, although there was a glimmer of sadistic excitement forming in his psyche.

He was going to enjoy what he had in store for that monster, although it must be admitted that said monster wouldn't enjoy it much at all.

...

"Gobber! C'mere! I think I finally figured it out!" Came the hoarse but excited call of Hiccup. It had been a good three hours since he'd bolted into the forge, panicked and raving. Already, in this safe environment he'd come to know and love, he was making a lot of progress with a certain project.

Gobber smiled calmly at the boy's statement and hobbled over to his workbench, quietly, as to not frighten him any further. "Did yeh, lad?" He asked, leaning over his shoulder, unknowingly causing him to shy away an inch or two. But he couldn't help it! As prone to failure as Hiccup's ideas were, Gobber always took an interest to them. "Well then, let's see. What 'ave ye come up with?"

Hiccup thrust the leather plan in his mentor's face with a shaky hand and preceded to explain at a rapid pace that only said mentor could understand. "O-Okay," he began breathlessly, the excitement over his idea coupled with the anxiety of that morning taking a toll on his speech.

"You see, at first I wanted to go with uh, with sort of a traditional prosthesis. Y-You know: the wood, the interchangeable weapons, the works," he explained, gesturing to Gobber's own hook prosthetic. "But I figured, if I'm going to lug this thing around for the rest of my life, I want it to be functional for other things than clobbering enemies. Though, that IS admirable."

Gobber snickered.

"I want it to be functional in the way I want it to be. I want to do something different."

Gobber grinned with relief. Despite the outwardly disheveled appearance and skittishness, Hiccup seemed to be at least trying to articulate his thoughts. "Somethin' different, eh? Sounds just like somethin' ye would do."

He carefully took the parchment in his remaining hand and scrutinized the plans.

The way it was all put together wasn't far from resembling a jumbled mess, but he supposed that's what happened when someone abruptly switched hands for writing. Not that HE knew that, since he'd always been right handed and losing his left had no impact on his penmanship. He'd never been quite a writer anyway.

"Yer gonna make a prosthetic with..." He squinted at the runes. "...Moveable fingers? That's a first."

Hiccup nodded hastily, hoping to the Gods that Gobber wouldn't cast his idea aside. "Ah-Yeah, yeah!" He replied. "I was personally thinking a cable-operated limb would work by attaching a harness and wiring around the opposite shoulder of my damaged arm." He nudged his shoulder for emphasis. "The metal wires connect from the shoulder-" he traced his fingers over the model, "...to my "hand"-it all connects _individually_ to each of the fingers on the prosthetic."

Gobber was curious, but skeptical. "That's an interesting proposition, but how on Berk do you...?" He shook his fingers for emphasis.

Hiccup grinned. "The wires start at the prosthetic..." He explained, "...move to my shoulder...all the way down to these." He wiggled the fingers of his remaining hand. "Whatever these little guys do-" he lifted both arms simultaneously, "-are going to control the prosthetic fingers. They'll be moving in unison. The wires with do all the work."

For Gobber, it clicked. "Ah... Ah see what yer doin'!" He grinned mischievously. "A sync tactic. Ah like it!"

Hiccup continued, "And when it's all connected, I could do...pretty much everything I can do with a normal hand." He thought for a moment. "Except lift something heavy because the fingers aren't strong enough yet."

"How about drawing an arrow?" Gobber asked in amusement. To his surprise, Hiccup reached up and tapped the top of the drawing of the prosthetic. There were two tiny hooks with blunt edge located at the palmed side of the pointer and index finger. Gobber's eyes widened and he whistled lowly. "I see. Those hook around the drawstring. So when you grip the bow with your real hand, the fake one will do the same, and you'll hook the drawstring when-"

"Exactly!" Hiccup interrupted. "A partially if not more functional fake hand. It's-It's full proof…partially! I can't wait to make it..." He paused, frowning down at himself. Well, it would definitely take longer with one hand, unless someone helped. And Gobber-...Hiccup glanced over to the piles of orders and felt his heart drop. "Oh..." He didn't want to take the man away from his job to conform to his own needs. He didn't feel as if he were worth the time, anyway.

Gobber sympathetically patted his shoulder as gently as he could. "Ech, don't worry, lad. As soon as Ah'm done with these ol' quotas, Ah'll help you as much as I need." Hiccup knew better than to protest. After all, what right did _he_ have? _He_ was the one who'd been missing from the forge for several weeks while this poor man was working his heart out, trying to meet demands without his apprentice. And not ONCE did _he_ ever complain.

"I...I understand, Gobber," Hiccup sighed, visibly disappointed. He gingerly retrieved his plan and looked over it sadly. It would have to wait. For now, he had to learn to adapt with what he had. "No-No hurry here. What's important is that you finish-"

"Heads up!" A brisk feminine voice called, causing both males to glance up.

Oh, sweet _Freya_.

Hiccup sucked in a breath and felt his face immediately start to burn. All traces of whatever happened to him in the past several weeks dissipated as his mind went haywire, replacing the jade eyes with a warm fuzzy feeling. Gobber noticed and after accordingly by nudging him expectantly. Oh...Thor, was he blushing? Was it visible? It couldn't be visible; she would notice!

Astrid. She was leaning against the counter of the forge, watching them through half-lidded azure eyes, bright with masked interest. Her face was impassive, but who knew what sort of things she could be thinking about.

"Astrid!" Hiccup blurted, a bit too loudly while quickly hiding his amputation behind his back. "Astrid-Astrid, what a pleasant surprise. It's been a while!"

The girl gave a curt nod and a tight-lipped smile. "You don't need hide that from me, Hiccup. The entire village knows about it." Gobber's smile altered. Was it just him, or could he hear a wee note of disdain in her voice?

"Heh…Oh?" Hiccup kept his arm behind his back anyway, despite the knowledge. Gods, just kill him now. "So, ah... What...What're you doing here?"

The blonde disclosed her trusty axe and tossed it with ease onto the counter with a clank, causing Hiccup to flinch at the loud noise. "The calibration's a little off," she told them. "I've got training to do with my family, and I need it to be perfectly centered."

Hiccup bit the inside of his cheek as Gobber stepped ahead of him to take the weapon. "One perfectly-balanced battle-axe, coming up! Just do me a favor and keep th' volume down t' a minimum," Gobber admonished, to which the girl stiffly shrugged her armored shoulders. He was about to take matters into his own hands and do it himself, but he stopped.

"Ye know, Ah'm pretty backed up on quotas, so Ah'm goin' to have my...manly apprentice take care o' that for ye," Gobber smirked knowingly. All color drained from Hiccup's face as the man gently pushed him toward the impatient girl.

"Oh-Oh! Sure!" He hastily complied, more out for fear of Astrid than anything else; scooting ahead of Gobber, he momentarily forgot his lack of grip. He reached out with his remaining hand, to which he later recounted as a foolish move, and tried sliding the axe off the counter to carry it to his station. But without the aid of his other hand, it fell heavily to the ground (and Hiccup with it, causing his knees to buckle) and buried itself into the floor.

There was a short, awkward silence between the three of them. Gobber shuffled sheepishly, trying not to chuckle while Astrid stared down at him incredulously. "Uh...?"

And as for Hiccup? He tried to stall by laughing. Hard. "Uh...heh. Ha-Ha! Oh, what a fail. Ha! Oh... What. A. Fail." With one hand, he tried to tug it from where it was embedded, but to no avail. He tugged harder. "Heh-heh... Seriously?"

"Everything alright down there?" Astrid asked, a touch of amusement in her tone as she placed her chin in her palm, the crook of her elbow digging against the counter. Gobber narrowed his eyes at her with suspicion.

Hiccup, on the other hand, wanted to die. "Uh-Ah, yes!" He exclaimed a little too quickly, fretting over his weakness. Sure, he was physically challenged before, but now with the loss of his hand, he was ten times more accident-prone. " _That's what I get_ ," he thought miserably, " _for letting a dragon go_."

Unbeknownst to him, Astrid was smirking down at him, and Gobber sent the girl a warning look accordingly. She ignored the man and practically sung, "Need a helping _hand,_ Hiccup?"

Hiccup jerked his head up to stare at her with his hurt-filled eyes, but then averted his gaze, willing himself to the weapon. Before Gobber could interfere, Hiccup shook his head. "...D'-ah, n-no. Yes! No, everything's fine n' dandy!" He insisted, trying to ignore her pun, gritting his teeth when the axe refused to dislodge.

"Hiccup, Ah can get that for ya," Gobber offered, and Hiccup blew his auburn bangs out of his cherry-red face. For Thor's sake, really? "Ye alright?"

"I-I'm FINE!" He snapped, a little too sharply for even Snotlout's taste. Gobber flinched, hurt, but understanding. "Everything's...as good as new," he went on, not really watching what he was saying. "...Spic and span..."

Astrid snorted. "Do those sayings apply here?"

Hiccup glanced up at her, quite annoyed, and smiled sweetly. "They do for me." Astrid huffed.

After several more failed attempts, Hiccup decided that his dignity too far gone to recast anyway, so he gave up and sent Gobber, who was looking on with a conflicted expression, a _look_.

The man sighed and hobbled over to pluck the axe from the ground with ease, causing Hiccup to go beet-red. "There we ahre." Gods, KILL me now, he was inwardly groaning as Gobber set the axe down where it needed to be. "And while Ah'm covering for yeh, maybe yeh could-" He paused and gestured back and forth several times between Hiccup and Astrid. "...Yeah, Ah'll just-Ah'll just go."

"..."

Shrouded in awkwardness, Hiccup avoided the girl's gaze and trudged over to the workbench. "So, I overheard the plans." Astrid began, scrutinizing her fingernails. "You were incorporating some sort of crazy mechanism into your new...prosthetic?"

Hiccup probably would have been offended if anyone else was eavesdropping, (especially if said person had intentionally made a pun at his cruel expense) but this was Astrid! She was-she was fine! And hormones were known for clouding better judgment. "Uh, y-yeah. I was—er, I am!"

It was then he became afraid that she would judge him for his mental change; his current breakdown was surely unattractive. And he was ugly enough. Now she had no reason to like him. Swallowing his worry, Hiccup smiled shakily. "Yeah, it's like, this mechanism that allows my real fingers to dictate the prosthetic finger movement."

"Huh. That's _handy_." Astrid leaned forward. To Hiccup's surprise, she looked...genuinely interested (although it was clear that she was trying to veil it). "Can I see?"

Hiccup froze. "I-I didn't...make it yet..."

Astrid rolled her eyes in irritation, and Hiccup felt his heart plummet. "No, _stupid_. I mean the plans. You did draw them out on a leather parchment, did you not?"

Hiccup gave her a funny look and narrowed his eyes skeptically. "H-How long were you spying on me, exactly?" He was hoping to force some sort of embarrassed sputter from her, perhaps not out of shame or guilt, but of embarrassment that she would waste her time watching someone as low as he, but she didn't even blink.

"Long enough," she coolly replied, flipping her blonde braid behind her shoulder. Without even bothering to check her rudeness, she snickered. "Consider yourself _lucky_. Now where're the plans? I'm pretty interested."

"O-Okay, okay!" Hiccup hesitantly complied, and limped to the back room. "Say, why are you so interested in seeing my plans?" He called. Astrid shrugged, albeit he couldn't see it. In truth, she wanted to see how he was coping with the attack, for her OWN reasons that many would find…terribly mean.

"You wanna make one yourself? I don't think you're missing any limbs," he joked, and returned with his plan in hand. "Nor will you any time soon."

Astrid snatched the paper without gentleness, causing him to cringe in response. "I-uh, um...-Please be careful with that!" He pleaded. "It took me a very long time to finish, being left-handed and all."

For a split second, Astrid actually forgot and she stared at him in disbelief. "What does _left-handedness_ have to do with-?" She stopped, glanced downward, and red engulfed her enter complexion. "Oh," she mumbled, quickly looking back at the plans. "Right. Nightfury? I saw the men haul it back to the killing arena. Must've done a number on you, huh? Then again, I don't need a spy-glass to see that."

Hiccup visibly flinched and a layer of anxiety abruptly shot up his spine. Of all the things she chose to mention-? Well, he supposed it made sense, considering the given situation and all, but that didn't help the fact that his heart was thumping faster and faster, his insides were melting into a white hot slurry, making him feel incredibly woozy, and that sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead just as it had before he came into town.

 _The brilliant jade eyes of the Nightfury had returned and were staring him down. Where did everyone go?_

"...Astrid, why…?"

 _He blinked slowly and kept his gaze on a horizon that no longer existed. The world around his had given way, had crumbled to dust until the last ones standing were he and those...eyes. He gurgled and stared, the entirety of his vision blinded by white and green._

 _There was fire. Ah, of course! That was why the flesh was melting off his face. He couldn't see it, obviously, but the downward tugging sensation coupled with the hot, salty liquid trailing down his face was evidence._

 _"Hic...?"_

 _No noise. Nothing. For a moment, he thought he could here Astrid repeating his name, but he was stuck in a white noise. And Astrid didn't exist. Nothing did. He was alone. The white noise itself was the sound of crumbling rocks and dragon screams. It penetrated his eardrums mercilessly, with a vengeance, and Hiccup realized with impending horror that he couldn't cover both ears with one hand. So he clawed uselessly at them instead._

" _Hissss_..." _Came the sliver of a dragon's tale, dragging the sharp end into his throat. The jade eyes never blinked, the black-as-night pupils as empty as the mouth of a cave._

 _"Hic...?"_

 _Hisssss... The_ Nightfury _._

"Hicc...?" _It was coming for him._

"Hiccu..?" _It was killing him!_

"Hiccup?" IT WAS GONNA TEAR OUT HIS GUTS!

" ** _HICCUP!"_**

Hiccup came to, to find Astrid roughly shaking him by the shoulders and Gobber gripping him by the hair. "Wake up!" She was yelling. "What's wrong with-? Gods almighty, snap out of it!"

Hiccup stared at her...and...stared and stared and stared. _"I'm gonna die,"_ he thought, feeling quite faint. " _I'm...I'm gonna get eaten alive."_ The prospect was too much to handle.

"Astrid!" He choked out, gripping her forearm with one hand, beyond the borderline of hysterical. His entire world was tipping and he was falling along with it. "Please...!" He begged her hoarsely, staring into her shocked azure eyes with his emerald, wracked with grief ones. "P-Please...! I can't! I ca-... Cuh-CAN'T!"

 _Slap_.

It was too much. Hiccup promptly fainted right then and there.

...

 **Author's Note: Like what you see? No? Then tell me so in the reviews. Click that button below and tell me what you think. You are guaranteed a personal response from me. So if you have any questions, comments, or concerns, don't be afraid to tell me. And yes, I do respond to anonymous reviews.**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Anticipate the next...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Before I begin the chapter, I just want to say how happy I am that you guys have been responding positively to the story. There have been a lot of questions in the comments pertaining to the future, or rather, the end of the story, and many are making some guesses as to what will happen to our favorite characters. And I am here to answer all those questions right now.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **…**

 _Teeth._

 _Eyes._

 _Claws._

 _Teeth and claws._

 _Claws and teeth._

 _Eyes. Jade. Jade. Eyes._

 _Hiccup was sinking into his own misery. Overlying himself in his own anxiety. Drowning in his wretched fears._

...

"Ah-Ah didn't think 'e could get any worse than this," Gobber stammered over the unconscious body of his apprentice, completely at a loss to what could have encouraged this type of behavior. He shot an accusing, shocked glare to the guilty party and barked, "Astrid, what did yeh do?!"

Her dignity on the line, Astrid was quick to deflect. "Don't blame this on me, Gobber!" The afflicted child snapped, although it must be admitted that she sniffed with satisfactory scorn at the incoherent boy. "Don't be angry at me because he took a nice trip."

 _..._

Alone in his home, Hiccup convened motionless atop a small wooden stool in a corner of the downstairs, where he had been ordered to reside until his father's return.

 _"_ _Teeth and claws."_

 _"_ _There's… Cuh…Claws n' teeth."_

A finger negligently traced a stark scar.

 _"_ _Nails and marks."_

The digit arched.

 _"_ _Marks and nails."_

The fingernail compulsorily dug into the healing wound, causing it to reopen and a trickle of blood to spill out.

 _"_ _...Blood."_

"Well, I've officially gone crazy," Hiccup mumbled under his breath, half-heartedly reposing his pale face in his palm. It felt so uncomfortable and unbalanced without his left hand present to support anything, but he forced himself to bear with it. His stomach churned with appalling disgust at the amputated limb.

He wished that the dragon could have-at the very least-stolen something expendable, like his foot. It wasn't as if he used it for more than just walking, which could be easily solved with a prosthetic. But with the way things were going along so far, an amputated limb was far down the list of worries as far as his mentality was concerned. Even what the village was going to think of him now was surprisingly far from his mind.

 _"I never thought I'd be classed as mentally unstable,"_ he mused. _"If anyone, it should have been Ruffnut or Tuffnut, or even Mildew...but... I guess it could happen to anybody."_

He sighed, sluggishly knocking his bony knees together before going inert once again. His entire body was drained of energy due to the toil of that day. He ceaselessly felt seconds from fading away into a dreamless coma, to which he would have contentedly taken over confronting his disappointed father again, or more significantly, the beast.

"I hope Dad's proud of himself for letting his runt live," the boy muttered humorously, rubbing at his eye. "Should've sent me out t' sea before I went bonkers."

Huh _._

He pondered if he could logically identify himself as crazy, did that make him sane? And if not, did that at least encourage the existence of logical reasoning hidden deep within his ruptured thought-process?

"I don't think so," he mused distractedly, shifting upon the stool he was sitting on. "Crazy people can know they're crazy, regardless of their stability. And I'm no exception."

But still, it was so difficult even for him to officially dictate his sanity levels. All his life he had been a stable, levelheaded person, with patience and perseverance. He spoke quietly when others yelled. Negotiated when others fought. Rebelled defiantly when others obeyed without question. Yes, he had been an enigma, but he wasn't insane then. Perhaps he WAS an exception.

"Was I _born_ insane?" He inquired to himself, his twitching fingers twiddling together. It was an interesting observation, one that would provoke many debatable questions, but he dismissed it with a small huff.

Just another stupid question. They were all stupid questions.

"No. All babies are innocent," he reminded himself, "until something screws them up along the way. Even I was normal, albeit kinda small." He smiled softly and tried to picture a tiny baby boy completely made up of innocence and curiosity, devoid of misery and guilt and fear. "Viking life hit me pretty heavily," he quipped darkly, a rickety chuckle forcing its way past his lips. "Heh. Guess it goes to show how much the Gods really hate me."

The small smile disappeared as quickly as it had emerged, along with any pleasantly witty thoughts; they were banished from his mind and were replaced by desolate ones.

" _Of course they hate me. I wasn't ever meant to live more than a week after birth. Mom and Dad were supposed to send me out to sea, but they didn't. I grew some, constantly spawned mayhem, destruction...and now a Nightfury...a Nightfury has been shot down, set free, and captured again."_

 **Stop**.

"No!" He cried, trying his best to subdue the remorse abating his mind. When had this self-induced torture begun? "I can't do this to myself. I can't dwell on these things!"

 ** _Stop_** _._

 _"Why stop? What else is new?"_

"Thor..." Hiccup buried his face in his remaining hand, contemplating his existence. What was the _point?_ It didn't matter what he or anyone else did, because the eyes would forever haunt him, tormenting him until his time of dying. The only way, at least in Hiccup's mind, to escape this anguish was to…

"I can't die," he dully proclaimed, disappointment evident in his tone. "I know I've come undone, but I can' leave my dad. It wouldn't be fair to him." He meant what he said, for he cared deeply for the man, but what was the point of living a life in such a hideous suit of scarred skin? What was the point of trying to earn the respect of his elder when he knew in his heart that it would never come other than as a form of pity? To earn his title to rule over people who looked down upon him? To be weak? To be hated? It just wasn't worth it.

 _"Death by fire, not teeth."_ Hiccup thought, imagining scenarios for the next raid. Blood cascaded from his wounds, and he resembles a human waterfall of crimson liquid. _"I want to go to Valhalla,"_ he thought, closing his grey-green eyes. _"I wanna see Mom. She can take care of me. She can erase my marks-my scars."_

A noble part of him took interest in this, but his other half, his all but shattered psyche, hysterically guffawed.

 _"Is THAT what you believe?!"_ It inquired _. "She_ sympathized _with_ dragons _! She fell in love with the very monsters that not only tore you apart, but your counterparts and ancestors too! The very monsters that have been pillaging and picking us off for centuries! She may not even be in Valhalla, for how could a person like that be granted admission to the table of heroes? And on top of that, what makes you think that you'd be granted admission to the table of kings and heroes?! What have YOU done!?"_

"I…"

 _"_ _How could she love you?!"_

Hiccup spluttered in spite of himself and hung his head when he couldn't think up a proper retort. Why did he need to convince himself of the sort of thing? Dead or alive, she was his mother! She _must_ have loved him! And despite his all-around uselessness, she wouldn't cast him aside like many had before. ...Right?

"It doesn't matter anymore, anyway," he muttered.

 _..._

Outside the Haddock household, things weren't up to par, especially for those who'd witnessed the young heir's mental breakdown in the forge; namely, Gobber and Astrid. Stoick had rushed over upon being hastily informed of the new development and arrived just in time to catch a glimpse of the ashen face of his unconscious son before he came to with gasps and quaking limbs.

After dismissing the gathering teenagers and other adult Vikings from the area, it didn't take long for him to make a final decision, one that Gobber disapproved of entirely.

"One lapse and yer givin' up on 'im?" He questioned the chief over a mug of refreshing water.

Stoick stared impassively into his own mug before answering in a solemn tone. "Gobber, Ah can't let him out in public like this." Before the smith could object, he added, "He's far too unstable. It's mah fault for letting him out when it clearly wasn't his time yet."

There was a short, understanding silence between the two of them and Gobber glanced at the Haddock home at the top of the hill. The site used to cast a regal tone across the village, ensuring safety, power, and leadership, but now it seemed like cursed ground, cradling within its walls an insane person.

"...Eh, that's alright, old friend," he muttered with a small shrug, banishing his opinion on the matter away. "E-Et's probably for his own good, anyway."

Stoick nodded with satisfaction, taking a long chug of his water before adding, "Ah also need to postpone his apprenticeship for th' time being." Gobber flinched at that and stared at his friend. "If he can't control himself for even an hour or two around other people," Stoick explained, "then he really ought to stay inside until Ah can figure out what's goin' on in that head of his."

Gobber opened his mouth to protest this arrangement, but for his friend's sake, he postponed it. "Ech," he grumbled, taking a large swig. "Good luck with that, Stoick."

 _..._

Hiccup absently picked at his fingernails, a nervous gesture of his mounting anxiety. Was it too much to ask to die a peaceful death rather than one of teeth and claws? Could he not even look forward to his inevitable demise in favor of seeing his long-lost mother? It was madness! It was lunacy!

It was _unfair!_ So, so incredibly unfair...

He shuddered, these thoughts of sadness and death scaring any sane part of him left, into hiding. He was deteriorating once again and there was nobody around who could help him.

 _Hisssss_...

The young Viking clamped his mouth shut, but not before a whimper or two escape the confines of his mouth. He didn't dare to glance upward, to come eye-to-eye with the Nightfury, its razor teeth bared, its claws extended.

" _But the claws aren't real-the claws aren't real!"_ He desperately tried to convince his breaking psyche. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead as he rocked back and forth. " _The teeth aren't real, Hiccup."_

"But they're so sharp," he croaked, clamping a hand against his mouth and hunching over. His stomach was twisting and churning along with the rest of his insides. Flashes of memory overcame his mind; images of the Nightfury's claws raking his chest, tearing chunks of meat out of his backside.

Had the young Viking been standing, his knees would have buckled beneath him. Instead, he began to heave at the memory and promptly expelled the contents of his stomach, right then and there, creating quite a mess on the wooden floor and a sour taste in his mouth.

"Erg..." He gurgled, emerald eyes rolling to the back of his head as he continued to heave. Pixies were swimming before his eyes. "Gotta...clean...that..." But he couldn't will himself to move.

"It h- _hurts_ ," he retched with a whine, salty hot tears bubbling at the corners of his blood-shot eyes _. "N-Not real, but real sharp. Eyes-"_ He paused for a moment, contemplating this. " _Eyes... Astrid blue, Snotlout brown...dragon green._.. _not real, but I have eyes, you have eyes, Dad green eyes. They're green. Like grass n' stuff. We all have green eyes like a Nightfury. But the eyes aren't real_."

He closed his own and wrapped his lanky arms around his torso. "...It hurts..."

...

It'd been a good few hours since he'd been brought back from his unconscious state to find his father, Gobber, and a stricken Astrid hovering above him—well actually, Astrid was hanging back a bit, chatting quietly with the other teens who'd arrived to watch the show. Joy.

"Ye alright there, Laddie?" The man breathed, gently pressing a callused palm against the boy's balmy forehead. "Gave me quite a scare, there." He move a hand under the younger Viking's backside. "Can yeh sit up for me? Hm? There we go. Right. That's better."

Hiccup was listless and limp, like a ragdoll. It was when he made eye-contact with Astrid that he recognized the wary, cautious expression on her flawless face. She wasn't frightened of him, per se, but being somewhat of a traditionalist, she was prone to believe many superstitions about Vikings who'd gone mad after battle, leaving them susceptible to the demons of Loki.

Though, to be fair, it wasn't every day that an acquaintance would go completely psycho and faint in your arms. She had every right to discard him aside, and he came to realize this through a barely functional mind.

And it wasn't just her. It looked as though everybody in town had come over to watch the show.

It was over.

...

The Nightfury had sleek claws that tore through flesh like a knife through butter. That's what he saw and continued to see day in day out.

" _But the claws I see aren't real_ ," Hiccup reasoned, fingering his tunic at the chest area where the scars lay riddled underneath. " _The claws are fake now, 'cause nobody sees 'em but me. Astrid has claws on her shoulders. Metal ones. But weapons are real-"_

A sudden cry tore at his raw throat as his sanity fought for control.

 _"But claws are real!"_ It reasoned _. "You got hurt because claws are real. Claws ARE real."_

 ** _Stop_** _!_

"No they aren't! J-Just like the eyes. They're false," he said aloud, as lucidly as he dared. He paused, and glanced around. Thankfully, Stoick was out prying information from Gobber about his son, and for once, Hiccup was semi-grateful. Thor knew what his father would say if he found his son rambling like this in a self-induced session of lunacy.

Dad...

" _Dad has marks like me_ ," he thought, tracing a visible one at his collarbone. " _His are smaller and hidden. They're real_."

"A monster wanted to eat him," his psyche moaned. "It wanted to chew on his skull and bones."

 ** _Stop._**

 _"The monster gave him marks like me,_ " Hiccup thought, his eyes growing hot. "But why?"

" _Monsters are bad, of course."_

 _..._

"Does anyone care to tell me what HAPPENED?" Stoick growled with a fiery gaze hot enough to set a thousand tubs to boil.

None the wiser and eager to tell the chef of his son's recent misfortune, Astrid marched straight up to him and put on her best petrified face. "He just went crazy!" Blurted the blonde girl, waving her arms. "I don't know what wrong with him, but whatever it is-"

"ENOUGH."

Nobody argued with the chief, and she fell silent, dropping her gaze immediately. "Sorry,' she mumbled, anger consuming her mind a the man swept passed her and ignored her insincere apology.

Stoick kneeled down to his son, taking in the sight of the boy's sunken eyes, and listless demeanor. He was leaning lazily against his boss for support and averting his blank gaze from his father's.

"Boy?"

No response.

"Hiccup?" Gobber softly inquired, nudging the listless boy.

Nothing.

" _Son_. _Answer_ me." Stoick ordered gently but firmly, reaching out to slip his fingers under his son's chin to tilt his head toward him. It wasn't until he retched out with a large hand that Hiccup invoked any response, and it was a harsh one.

With a guttural cry, Hiccup swatted his father's hand away, causing everyone present to flinch with deep devastation.

"Hiccup _…"_ Stoick whispered, and then trailed off. Was his son truly even _there_ anymore? It was what everyone was wondering at this point.

 _..._

Hiccup nodded crazily. "Bad. Monsters are bad." It was the only thing he was sure of now.

 _"Dad is good. Dad protected us. He's good. Gobber's good. Monsters are bad. Markings are good_."

"Good?" Hiccup marveled, beside himself as he picked at a scar on his clavicle. "Marks are good?"

" _Marks of bravery. He protected his family and you tried too_."

When Hiccup had truly gained consciousness from the zombie-like state in the forge, pixies swam before his very eyes, coupled with the jade that-he was convinced now-would never abandon his lie of sight. It was inevitable, he realized morosely, that he would never live the life he had before, and although that life hadn't been all that favorable, it was better than _this!_

 _"But not you. You got the marks because you set a monster free!"_ The psyche snarled, abruptly taking on a different tone, causing him to physically shake. " _You are BAD! You set free a monster that tried to eat Dad! Eat you!"_

Upon "recovering" from his most recent breakdown, which consisted of hyperventilating, panicked cries, and uncontrollable spasms, Hiccup hid his face as he was personally escorted from the forge by his father, from the plaza, and from the prying eyes of his tribesmen, all the way back to his humble abode. Stoick had him firmly by the uninjured arm, impassively staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable and intentions unclear.

Hiccup, on the other hand, felt numb and dizzy, inside and out. He knew that coming into the village was a horrible idea. He knew it. He knew it. He knew it.

" _It's gonna drive you insane, and when it escapes again, it's gonna find you when you least expect it, and eat you!"_

 **Stop**.

" _It'll crunch your bones-fingers and legs and arms and toes-very sweet and coppery_."

Hiccup almost threw up again. He shifted about tremendously and mindlessly tugged at his once again bandaged shoulders. During his freak-out session, he'd managed to tear most of his stitches, which caused him to start to bleed a dangerous amount. Luckily, Gobber was there to help him. Even so, Hiccup was nothing short of broken, with or without the stitches.

"It's gonna get me..." He murmured hoarsely, rocking back and forth on the stool from which he sat. Stoick had commanded him to remain put while he fetched more medical supplies, despite his son's unstableness.

So here he was. Alone.

"It's g-... 'T's...gonna eat me..." He whimpered, wrapping with skinny arms around his torso. "Gonna...G-Gonna eat me alive-"

Tremble.

Tremble.

Tremble.

 **Stop**.

But it didn't stop.

"It's gonna eat me alive."

He's alone and vulnerable, and fear overcomes his being almost instantly, his heart beating like a hammer. He wanted his father, the only person who could ever protect him from the monster. The Nightfury. But he won't talk. He won't disturb the shadows and the silent dead of the morning. Or was it the afternoon? He couldn't really tell anymore.

He couldn't think straight. Something-something crucial in his mind had broken, and he couldn't figure it out like he was supposed to.

His eyes widen after a few attempts to close them, but finding the jade eyes where the darkness should be.

No... No... NO!

His hand jerked up to pound against his face, and a loud 'thock' reverberated around the small of the room upon impact.

" _Why won't you go away_?!" He howled, painfully digging his fingers into his eyes, trying to scrub away the hallucinations. His sanity was eroding once more into a panicked frenzy. "Go AWAY! GO away! Go away! Go away!"

They hovered above him. To his right. To his left. They wouldn't dissipate. They wouldn't leave. They wouldn't leave. They had teeth. They had claws. They had red. Red stuff... Blood. His blood.

Hiccup continued to scream. Scream until throat went raw. Scream until until a pair of feet rushed into the home gargantuan arms instantly engulfed him. He screamed again, terrified that THAT might've been the forearms of the Nightfury preparing to rip him to shreds. He began to dribble, face marble-white; he was _that_ afraid.

And then he heard his father's voice, the light that banished the dark, and thankfully, the eyes for the time being.

"Enough! _Enough_!" The man bellowed, and Hiccup resigned to full out sobbing rather than screaming, burying his face into his father's tunic. "Enough. Calm down. Just...calm down." Tiny fingers clenched his tunic and he received no intelligible reply. Just a series of hyperventilating gasps.

"I-I-I can't! I-I can't!"

"Yeh can't?!"

"No! YES! _NO_!" That's the issue. He doesn't know what. He can't be left alone? He can't go on? He can't escape? What?!

"I-I dunno!" He broke down. "I DON'T KNOW!"

Stoick shook his head and wrenched himself out of the embrace. He needed Gothi's advice and a priest to exercise the demon plaguing his son.

Hiccup blanched and resisted the urge to run to his father, for the fear of being so vulnerable is more than he could bear. Under any other circumstances, he would've placidly remained where he was so that he wouldn't annoy or bother the man, but here, his own life was far more important...

"NO!" Hiccup's will-power shattered and he leapt from the stool, wrapping his arms around the man's waist. The outburst caught him off-guard. "Don't leave me!" He shrieked. Stoick did a double-take.

"Don't leave! It'll come if you leave! It's gonna get me, don't you get it?!" Stoick stared as his son went visibly mad before him. Hiccup's pupils shrunk down to needlepoints and his fingers yanked at the unkempt hair on his head. Stoick's heart plummeted to his stomach and his face turned ashen.

"It's starving!" Hiccup wailed, bashing his own forehead with a fist. "It wants me 'cause I shot it outta the sky!"

 _"Hiccup-!"_

"It's gonna rip my guts out!" The boy gasped, hunching over to wrap his hands around his middle. He was beginning to hyperventilate and he leapt forward with his hand outstretched.

He could see them-the teeth tearing open a hole in his abdomen and drawing out a mess of bloody internal organs, which splattered upon the hardwood floor. "It's gonna EAT ME!" He screamed, vision going white, the world tilting.

"ENOUGH!" Stoick boomed.

Hiccup was too far-gone to care about his non-existent dignity, and he allowed his father to engulf his tiny body with his larger one in a protective, sorrowful embrace. For a long time, there was silence, save for the abrupt gasps and sobs emitting from the younger Viking.

"That dragon... You're scared t' death of it, aren't ye?" Stoick asked softly, running his fingers through his son's auburn hair. It was evident, but he needed his boy to clarify it.

Hiccup would laugh if he could. Wasn't it obvious? Instead, he shuddered and whimpered out a hoarse, "Y-Yes. G-Gods, yes!"

Oh, Odin… "It's alright. It's alright. Ah understand." Stoick sighed, gently tightening his embrace around the hysterical child. "Hiccup, it's in the ring," he tried to assure. "It _can't_ get t' ye."

"No! It can!" The younger Viking cried, beyond the capacity of rational thought. It seemed as though his common sense had been completely tattered. "And it will! If it's alive-it's there-it..." His voice sank low to a whisper, "...it's coming for me!"

"It will no longer be alive," Stoick admonishes. "By this Thorsday, it will no longer be among the living. It will be dead, it's soul in Helheim, that I can promise yeh. Yeh won't have anything to worry about it ever again."

Hiccup's breath hitched upon hearing this new development. "W-What do you mean?" He inquired nasally, wiping his nose. "Are...Are you gonna-?"

"Yes," Stoick answered solemnly. "It's to be executed come tomorrow for its crimes against the Vikings of Berk."

Hiccup finally went somewhat quiet, and sniffed thoughtfully.

"If it's dead," Stoick pressed, "it can't get you, yes?"

Even in Hiccup's barmy state, that made sense. If it was dead, it couldn't hurt him, yeah? "...Yeah..."

"Right. It will never haunt you again."

That assured Hiccup like nothing else ever had. The change in his persona was sudden, almost scarily abrupt, but who wouldn't react quickly if they knew their monster was going to be vanquished off the face of the world by the next day?

Among all the terrifying, gut-wrenching thoughts that had been plaguing his mind for days, this new proposal encouraged a seemly pleasant, yet uncharacteristically odd thought to wriggle its way out of the depths of Hiccup's psyche and penetrate his thought process. "I...I want to watch," he whispered, closing his emerald eyes and bowing his head so that his bangs hid his face from his father.

The statement tugged a slight gasp to emit from the Chief, who hadn't expected his son to desire such a thing.

"Y-...Ye want t'-?"

"Watch," Hiccup insisted, curling his fingers tentatively around each other. "I-I...I wanna watch you...k-ki..."

"End its life?" Stoick supplied. "Ah don't think that's something ye should be witnessing in yer..." He gestured aimlessly. "...In yer state."

Hiccup said nothing, but with his face hidden from his father's line of sight, he allowed his features to contort into an ugly snarl. As strange for him as it may have seemed, he had a sudden...longing to witness the upcoming extraordinary event. To see the vibrant green eyes that had haunted him since the attack to fade to milky death. To watch the body give its last shudder and fail.

"I wanna see it die," Hiccup admitted with a small sob. He knew just how angry his father was at the dragon. "I want it to-to just close its eyes."

Stoick gently gripped his boy's shoulders, uncertain how to feel about this. Not only had this creature stolen from them, hurt them, but it had also pained them in a way that he couldn't describe, but this... He inhaled deeply, remembering his former meeting with the beast. "It deserves no better than to..."

"Die a painful death?" Hiccup mumbled, his emerald eyes flashing with something new. "'Scuse my brashness, but please do."

Stoick was confused but amazed. "Hm?"

"Kill it," he snapped suddenly, his brows furrowing. "You have to. Kill it as soon as possible. I don't want it to find me. I don't want it to eat me."

"And it won't," his father promised, unnerved by the sudden change in his boy's demeanor, "by the time I'm through with it."

Hiccup flinched, but a part of him relished in the prospect of his mauler suffering the way he did. It was the least that thing deserved for mauling him. For stealing his hand. For forever scarring his body. For rupturing his mind. For plaguing it with nightmares that would continue to haunt him for years to come.

Jade eyes…

 ** _Stop._**

 _Growl_.

"Kill it!" He suddenly shrieked, leaping from his spot on the floor to grab a nearby sword off the wall and shove it into his shocked father's hands before he could even blink. "Kill it! Kill it!"

"Hicc- Thor, boy! Calm yourself!"

"Now! Kill it! While you still have time! Kill it! Kill it!"

* _Slap!*_

The rapid noise echoed throughout the small hut, effectively cutting off the boy's cries. Hiccup stumbled backward, awkwardly clutching the reddening area of his face, which had just been assaulted full force. The sting itself was unbearable, but the identity of the guilty perpetrator was too much for him to bear.

"Duh- _Dad_!" His cry was child-like in the midst of betrayal and hysteria.

Stoick's breathing was ragged as he watched his son collapse against the wall near the base of the stairs, drawing his bony knees up to his thin, pale face. His eyes were wild, disbelieving, and spoke of hurt, infidelity, and utter misery.

"Hiccup," the man started, quickly approaching the boy, causing him to yelp and curl in on himself.

"D-..."

The chief quickly knelt down next to him. "Ah'm sorry. Ah'm sorry Ah had to do that, but your behavior is getting far out of _hand_ -... Thor, almighty..."

"I'm sorry!" Hiccup wailed, drawing his knees up to his face. "G-Gods I'm s-so sorry! I didn't mean t-to do that!" What had he been thinking?! "Dad-As long as that thing-I mean, I can't stop-I can't stop thinking about it!"

"About what?"

"The...That _Nightfury_!" He groaned, burying his face in his knees. "It won't stop-! I can't stop thinking about it and I don't know how much longer I can go on like this-I mean, look at me! I'm-I'm..."

Ah... Stoick understood this type of condition. He'd seen it in warriors who'd fought through decades of battles and had seen more than enough gruesome things to scar lesser men. Those warriors had always resigned, hung up the axe or the sword and live the rest of their lives quietly, away from the thrill of life's greatest pleasures. He'd seen the vacant expression on their faces, the milky blankets in their eyes, their gnarled fingers tightly clenching and unclenching-it was nearly equivalent to Hiccup's nervous actions as of late.

It dawned on him. He needed to destroy the source of Hiccup's suffering, the thing that had started it all. "I see," Stoick softly replied, gathering the child in his arms. "I see."

Hiccup was beyond comfort and he continued to ramble on without thought. "Why did I...?!" He groaned. "Why did I hafta set it free?" Stoick pushed whatever discerning thoughts away that questioned the odd statement and he tightened his hold.

It would be over soon. The nightmare was going to end the next day.

"Tomorrow," he promised. "Ye will be there, because yer goin' t' be th' one t' carry out the execution."

...

Hiccup sat stiffly. Although it was incredibly misty out and the temperature had dropped significantly since the start of the day, he felt dreadfully hot and incoherent. His remaining hand was clustered awkwardly beside his amputated one, clammy.

He sat beside his father, on the right sight of his regal throne, which overlooked the arena to give the person a spectacular view of what was to come. And what was to come was going to be a part of history: thousands of dragons had been executed on Berk, hundreds alone in this arena, but today was special, marked historical by the execution of the first-ever captured Nightfury.

Hiccup rubbed his thumb along the leather handle of his whittling knife, the one meant to finish the job. It didn't feel like his hand, holding that weapon.

He felt off.

Stoick surveyed the arena, his cheering subjects, and decided that with all of them gathered and waiting, now was the perfect time to commence the ceremony.

"Bring out the Nightfury!" He boomed. A group of Vikings rushed over to open the large wooden doors that delimited the aforementioned dragon, unveiling its sluggish, malnourished, but nonetheless impressive form.

Hiccup's breath hitched and he curled up in his seat of honor, the mere sight of the beast triggering all sorts of horrible feelings within him. "Ye alright, Hiccup?" Stoick whispered. His son swallowed and nodded. "Alright, wait here. Ah'll call ye down when it's your time."

Another jerky nod, and Stoick left.

Everyone was invited to come down and deliver his or her own blows to the dragon. For some, like Gobber and Stoick and those whose homes and families it had destroyed, it was out of vengeance, but most of the other participants simply wanted a chance to take a hit at the legendary beast, placing bets and taking names while others sat and watched said beast with stony anger.

Hiccup scrutinized inflexibly, his stomach flip-flopping with every punch, every stab, every kick, but a part of him imbibed the sight like a cup of mead on Snoggletog. A part of his was really enjoying this, more than he ever should have. A small, hysterical smile of sadistic wonder was tugging at his lips, his hand playing with the whittling knife thoughtfully.

What would it be like to finally kill a dragon, he kept wondering? Why would it be like to be the first of his peers to do it? From what he'd heard from warriors around the village, it would be a combination of exhilaration and retribution. Would...Would he even be able to enjoy that?

When he had first met the beast, he'd been unable to do so, his sympathetic compassion getting the better of him. But now, things had changed within him. If things had gone a little differently, perhaps he would have been protesting the treatment of this animal, say, if he hadn't been mauled like a common boar. But he had been. And unfortunately for the Nightfury, its lunch had lived and was coming back to deliver the final blow.

The dragon was screaming, music to Stoick's ear as he ordered five or six men to peel the dragon's lips away with carving knives, exposing its bloody teeth and gums. It wailed in agony; the sound should have broken Hiccup's heart under detached circumstances, but now he felt nothing but satisfaction and disdain, even when the _castration_ began.

"Well, how about that?" He muttered inquisitively, rotating the knife between his fingers as the dragon's screams echoed around the area. "The butcher's getting butchered."

After a mighty half hour of the villagers barraging the dragon, the town dentist was called in to perform exquisite torture methods. He was instructed to yank out the razor sharp teeth of the beast, to which he gladly complied and took the extra time to remove each one _tantalizingly_ slow.

It was an agonizing process, and the dragon strained with all its might to maneuver his maw away from the Vikings, but they held fast. Nothing in the world could distract them from the task at hand; not jewels, nor food, nor treasures.

" _MONSTERS_!" The Nightfury screeched as more of his teeth were removed. He attempted to retract the ones left to salvage the rest he had, but the offending dentist would simply dig his razor-sharp scalpel into his tender gums to draw the teeth out, causing excruciating pain that would cause lesser reptiles to pass out.

" _WORMS! VERMIN! PESTS!"_

 _Yank_.

Screech!

 _Yank_.

Howl!

 _Ya-clink._

The dentist bit the inside of his cheek with concentration. Only part of the tooth had been removed, the rest of the bone hanging by a few threads of shredded gums. An involuntary twinge shot through Hiccup's jaw as he witnessed the brutality.

"Just leave it," Stoick waved dismissively, and the dentist bowed respectively before backing off to the let chief through. He had his own punches to throw in.

Next were the claws. Hiccup watched squeamishly as the blunt force of his father's hammer flattened the paws of the Nightfury, which shrieked with all its might. The hammer had ignited a fire within the reptilian being that surpassed its own plasma blasts. It screeched so loudly that the noise caused Hiccup's ears to ring. And since he couldn't cover both ears at once, he forced himself to wait it out.

" _Hiccup_!"

That was his father.

The boy stared down at the man, who was beckoning him closer with a finger.

"Get down here, son!" He called almost cheerfully, the rush of the morning improving his mood tremendously. "It's time."

That's right. Everything was said and done and everyone had had their fun; it was time for him to make the dragon exit from this world.

He scurried down without question and hesitance, clutching his knife like a vice as he vacated the premise of the thrones. His heart was pounding like a kettledrum as he entered the circular arena, and he cast his emerald eyes to the stony ground, too afraid to make eye contact with anyone-especially the beaten Nightfury that trained its eyes on him the moment he entered. Would it recognize him?

 **Stop**.

Don't think.

 **Stop**.

Just go.

 **No, stop! You can't go near that thing!**

"Hush. It'll be over soon," he assured himself, carefully wiping the beads of sweat away from his forehead. Despite the cool weather, he felt unusually warm, and whether the cause was anxiety, nervousness, or fear, he didn't care. There were bigger things to worry about now.

His father beckoned him again, and he obeyed, moving stiffly toward the group with his eyes cast downward. " _It's gonna be fine,_ " he thought repeatedly, carefully adjusting his helmet, a gift his father had granted him that morning, assuring his role in the village as a warrior. _"If, by chance, that something goes amiss, there are plenty of people down here to help me."_

Everyone had different expressions on their faces that ranged from pride to indifference to anger. Stoick had a furrowed frown and his form was straight, an attitude of cautious pride. Gobber looked exceedingly worried and nervous, and it was evident that he was trying to mask it, albeit unconvincingly. The other teens, including Snotlout, gave him grins of encouragement. Tuffnut even gave him a light pat on the back as they strode past him to make a respectable distance.

After all, who wouldn't want a good view as the show reached its climatic conclusion?

Astrid was tight-lipped with her arms folded and her entire being as stiff and cold as an iceberg. She said nothing of note as her adversary approached but jealously bloomed within her like nothing else had before. In what world did he deserve to kill that dragon? No, seriously, in what world did a terrible runt of Viking deserve to deliver the final blow? There were hundreds of villagers present who were more deserving than this feeble idiot, but they were still letting him? HIM?! It was ridiculous.

She seethed and growled as someone gripped her shoulder and tugged her away from her desired prize-all to make a clear path for the heir of the tribe.

"That should be me," she growled under her breath, shrugging away from the ones who held her back. _"He'd better put on a show worthy of a real warrior,"_ she thought nastily, _"or so help me Freya..."_

Determination wilting, Hiccup paused a few feet away from his destination, still struggling to control his breathing and heart pace. His clammy, sweaty fingers clenched and unclenched the weapon in his hand and he nearly dropped it several times. His feet couldn't move on their own any longer.

The dragon grimaced up at him, its eye tapering into a slit while its bloody gums bore. Hiccup exhaled nervously. He wasn't sure that it could recognize him through scent alone, but since the reptile chuffed and began to growl even more so, it was evident that the beast withheld the grudge with a passion. The boy's mind flashed to the day where he was mauled and went immobile. A sharp level of anxiety flashed up his spine, causing him to shudder and shake with apprehension. Swathed by trepidation, he didn't realize the world was tilting until Gobber's large hand stabilized his poise by placing his hook on his shoulder.

"Et's alright, lad," the man assured him, sensing his dread. "Aim for the space between the eyes. It's the safest way t' go, for y, and th' dragon. That way, it wont struggle and squirm."

"Oh, Gods...I..." Hiccup sucked in a breathless aperture of air and let it out in a bale of shudders before giving a small smile of thanks to his mentor. "Th-Thanks Gobber. Ah—I-I'll keep that in mind."

The blacksmith gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and lumbered off, but not before saying with a conflicting tone in his gruff voice. "Just—Just…be careful, alright? Ah want t' see mah apprentice back at th' shop!" Hiccup watched him go and sighed, turning back to the transgressing animal—that indignantly hissed at him accordingly, it's brilliant jade eyes never failing to probe into his soul.

Those eyes… Those ancient jade eyes. Hiccup couldn't imagine a more terrifying image shrouded with more hate than those eyes… He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from crying out or doing anything else rash. The pain helped him concentrate, and he was determined not to have another mental breakdown in front of everyone he ever knew. That alone would be enough for everyone to ship him off for fear he'd gone mad.

The crowds, albeit ever rowdy, quieter themselves some as the heir of Berk approached the Nightfury, his scrawny hand raised, clutching the hilt of the knife so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. Stoick watched his son and felt a wave of satisfaction and pride wash over him. His son's first kill. He could've cared less about the circumstances: how it was tied up and restrained, making it incredibly easy for anyone to simply walk up to the beast and shove a knife through its throat. A kill was a kill. But a dragon wasn't just a dragon, and this beast was the finest of them all. To have his very own son be the one to take it down with his own invention and have the honor of killing it with his own hand—he as a father and general of war couldn't be prouder.

Hiccup's hand froze in the air when he came close enough to see the scales aligning its dark eyelids-which were too close for comfort in his own opinion. For a moment, he just stared at the creature, watching its sleek torso faintly swell with every shuddering breath it took.

It was in agony, he realized. Its teeth were ripped from its gums, bloody stubs were in place of its claws, there was nothing but torn tissue between it's legs in a southern region, and there were multiple large patches of bloody skin where he could clearly see that the scales had been forcefully removed.

"H…Hi, Dragon," He whispered under breath, and the reptile's earflaps twitched at the sound of the human's nasally voice. His large left eye, the one that wasn't swollen shut, glared acidly at the Viking.

The young male flinched, sniffing heavily as he glared right back. How dare the beast stare so _accusingly_ at him? "D-Don't _look_ at me like that. You know what you did," Hiccup alleged, his voice raspy with anger and hours of crying and screaming. "Don't you? You knew then, you know now, that I _helped_ you. I-" He re-gripped the knife and shook it. "-I showed you mercy," he snarled through gritted teeth. "Y-You couldn't have done the same for me?"

The dragon stared right at him, and for a moment, Hiccup might actually had thought that the beast understood him. Until it hissed.

Hiccup closed his eyes and blood pounded in his ears at the sound while others took a few steps back from the enraged animal. "That's…Yeah, that's what I thought," he whispered. "Of course you couldn't. You don't have feelings. You don't have a conscious. You—You're just an animal. A stupid animal. You're about as smart as you look. You're a monster. You-."

"Are you _talking_ to that thing?" Astrid abruptly piped in disbelief, catching the boy off guard and pausing his ministrations. The surrounding Vikings glared at her, quite offended that she went and interrupted the performance, but she ignored them, glaring accusingly at her self-proclaimed adversary. "Just kill it!"

Hiccup went red with an emotion he couldn't quite place.

"Bite yer tongue, silly girl!" Spitelout hissed, causing Astrid to grind her teeth together and deliver a death glare to the heir.

"Hurry up," she snapped at the other teen, evoking strange looks from her fellow friends and tribesmen. What was wrong with her? How could she defy the chief and his son? Although nobody could blame the girl for her impatience—everyone wanted to see a dragon get a knife to the gut after all—it was the level of rudeness she was exhibiting that nobody could quite place. They looked to Stoick for confirmation, but he just shook his head, indicting that they were to ignore her. He wanted everyone in the village to witness this, no matter how uncivil they were.

"We want to see you kill it!" Astrid exclaimed, to which many others nodded with encouragement. "Now kill it!"

Hiccup said nothing to her, but tensed, his blood pounding in his ears. _"Stop,"_ he desperately wanted to say, _"Please, just stop…"_ Why couldn't she permit him some leniency? What had she to _lose_? Unlike him, what had she to _gain_? Everyone adored her already, so why couldn't she bequest him exaltation just this once? Why couldn't she just keep her cruel comments to herself and let nature take its course?

 _"Because little-miss-perfect's upset that she doesn't get to kill the Nightfury. She's a jealous vixen,"_ his hysterical psyche barked.

 **Stop**.

"That's not fair," he whispered aloud, stepping a bit closer to the Nightfury, which chuffed at him, its eyes widening at the sight of the knife. Instinctively, its ears drooped down in a form of fear and submission.

 _"_ _No?"_

"Come on!" She demanded. "Show us what a Viking you are and do it!" Stoick tensed and crossed his arms, shooting a conflicted gaze toward the girl.

Hiccup nearly teared up at the anger in her voice, and took a deep breath. He was trying. Trying so hard not to break in front of her, his father, his peers, Gobber, everyone. They were counting on him and he needed to be strong, not only fir them but for the sake of his dignity.

"Okay, okay," he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking as a sob threatened to escape him. "Go time. It's go time." He approached ever closer to the dragon. "What do you think, Mr. Nightfury?" He tried to insure in confidence, although it must be admitted that his hand shook. "Death by teeth, claws, metal, or fire? Hm? Well, I'm sorry to say that you don't get a choice."

Astrid was livid and she snorted. Was he purposely having a bogus conversation with that thing to personally ire her? If so, he was doing a brilliant job, and it was taking all of her willpower and strength to keep her self from flying at the boy, knocking him down, taking the knife away from him, and finishing the job herself. After all, _she_ deserved that honor, not him. She'd poured her blood, sweat, and private tears into her training, trying with all her might to prove to everyone that she was worthy of protecting her people. All he had done was accidentally get himself mauled.

"Hurry up!" She snapped over the shouts of encouragement from the other Vikings. "Are you stupid or something?"

Hiccup snapped out of his self-induced mania and swiveled his head around to peer at her with horror. N-No… Fortified by his response, she demanded, "Just _stab_ the thing and get a move on, for Thor's sake! Be a man for once in your life!" She was coming closer until she was a mere few feet away, and then added in a lower tone that only he could hear, due to their proximity, "Or are you too _weak_ to do that?"

White-hot slurries of embarrassment, shame, and horror flooded through the abyss of Hiccup's mind, and his knees almost buckled beneath him.

No…

He wasn't sure by that point if his face had either gone an ashen grey or an ember red, but the one thing he was certain of was that he was unhinging. It was too much. Too much.

"Are you deaf _and_ blind?!" Astrid snorted. "The thing's in shackles! Do it!"

Hiccup inhaled shakily, trying his best to ignore her and focus on the situation at hand. "Okay, okay," he mumbled. "Don't freak out. Don't. You can do this."

 _"You can do this. You can do this. If you do this, the eyes will never haunt you again_."

"Right," Hiccup answered allowed, taking a deep breath before raising his right arm with his non-dominant hand awkwardly grasp the knife, poising it at the area between the dragon's eyes.

He could do this. It was simple. At least, that's what his father made it look like. A simple plunge into the skull would be merciful enough.

Hiccup shook his head, and peeked at the dragon, staring directly into its jade eyes, so full of hate and animalistic anger. Why was he hesitating? It was right there waiting for him! Everyone was leaning in to catch a glimpse of the final blow, and most were getting impatient.

The Nightfury hissed accordingly, as if it too was tired of the anticipation, and Hiccup nearly fainted with fear by the abrupt noise. But his arm refused to move.

Take a deep breath.

Do it.

Don't untie it this time.

Kill it.

Do it.

His hand was rigid in the air, poised to strike, gripping the knife so tightly that his knuckles were white, but he didn't move.

Hiccup was so perplexed by his unwillingness that he was beginning to panic. Why wasn't he eager to kill the thing that plagued his life? He'd been very eager to watch everyone cause the ruination, but HE couldn't do it himself.

"What is wrong with me?" He said aloud, luckily, quiet under the roar of the crowd and the growls and moans of the Nightfury. "Why can't I...?"

" _Because there's a smidge of humanity left in me_ ," he realized with surprise. "I can still sympathize..." His hand trembled and sweat trickled down his forehead. His stomach was churning and he desperately wanted to find an ale bucket to barf into. " _W-With a monster...?"_

The dragon glared him down and he took a retreating step backward, evoking confused murmurs to rise amongst those watching. Why wasn't h finishing the job? Astrid smirked in spite of him.

"I..." He lowered his hand, contrite and mortified. He stared at his boots since he couldn't look anyone in the eye. "...I don't know if I can do it," he whispered.

"Hiccup?" Stoick called out, surprised, but understanding. "Are ye-?" His son sent him a pleading look one that said he couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't do it anymore. "Ye-Ye don't have to do this," he offered conflictingly, causing everyone close to gape at him with shocked surprise.

Astrid choked out a laugh of utter disbelief. "What are you-? It's right there, Hiccup! Do it! Don't be pathetic!"

The other teens glanced at each other with clueless concern. "Astrid," Fishlegs tried. "I don't think you should-"

"Hurry up!" She snapped, blatantly ignoring her friend. "Kill the Nightfury! Kill the Nightfury! Kill the Nightfury!"

"Yeah, c'mon Hiccup!" Snotlout encouraged. "You can do it!"

"Yeah," Tuffnut added, unaware of the danger approaching. "Show the dragon who's boss!"

Hiccup ducked his head and shook. He couldn't do it. The dragon garbled at him and he stared at it in shock. Was that thing _mocking_ him? "S-Shut up," he whispered, tears gathering at the corner of his bloodshot emerald eyes. The dragon howled and he screamed right back, drawing the knife up but refusing to use it, shocking everyone. "SHUT UP!"

"Stop talking t' it!" Gunnar called out with laughter. "Just kill it!"

"Kill it!"

"Ye 'eard 'im! Kill!"

"Do it!"

The shouts clouded Hiccup's mind and he stumbled back, dizzy. _"Stop."_

Astrid shook her head, blinking rapidly with utter disbelief. "Okay, that's it." Unaware of the dangerous state of affairs, she carelessly approached, shocking everyone by grabbing his hand, the one with the knife in it, and snarling, "If you're not man enough to harm a flightless, restrained dragon, then I'll just have to do it _myself_."

Her abrupt actions stirred a panic in Hiccup, a type of panic that finally broke the dam that separated insanity from whatever humanity he had left. And it was she who paid the price.

 **Stop,** his conscious whispered. **St— "** SHUT IT!"

His pupils shrunk down to needlepoints, his lips pulled back into a snarl, and he screamed at the top of his lungs, "LET GO OF ME!"

Slug. Thock. Stab.

Astrid's body fell to the stone floor, her skull coming into contact with the ground with a sickening crack.

Shock. Silence.

Hiccup stood above her body, a now blood-coated knife in hand, panting heavily. And then a sharp cry broke into the pregnant pause from someone in the ring, and _that's_ when Hiccup unhinged.

With an animalistic scream of rage, he leapt toward the screeching dragon and sunk his whittling knife into the jade of said Nightfury, all the way to the hilt of the weapon. The arena suddenly went silent with shock as he gave the weapon a twist. Blood spurted about the injection and sprayed everywhere as he yanked the knife back out, only to plunge it back in again.

Everyone was stunned by the display. Nobody had accounted for this.

"SHUT YOUR EYES!" The boy screamed, tears leaking down his face, draping his body over the head of the beast so that he could stab the area again and again and again. "SHUT THEM! SHUT THEM! SHUT THEM!"

After a while, the dragon had stopped moving, for its face quickly transformed into the pin cushion, but Hiccup kept going, slamming the razor-sharp knife over and over and over into the skull of the beast, and finally destroying every trace of those haunting, disgusting jade eyes, putting as much sadistic vengeful hate he could with every stab, making sure to leave no area unharmed.

Once the orbs had melted and dissolved into green-white-red gooey slush. Hiccup at last backed away from the dragon and stood still, rapidly blinking with insanity.

Stoick was still too shocked to move while others stepped back.

And then, something clicked.

"What happened?" Hiccup asked, his face going from that of a murderous rage to that of normality. As usual his voice held its pleasant, nasally intonation, but he'd dropped the volume to a whisper. Clearly bewildered, he lowered his fist to his side – still curled tight around the knife, as though he wasn't sure if he was still supposed to hit something or not. He looked around, trying to gauge where he was, trying to remember.

"Hiccup..." Stoick whispered, reaching out a large hand toward the trembling, bloody boy. "Son..."

"Why am I all-?" He scrutinized himself, taking in the sight of his bloody body. "O-Oh! W-W… What…?" He stared at the blood on his hand and gasped, twitching slightly.

"W-Wait, Son!"

Hiccup was starting to malfunction. The stress of knowing that he hurt a living being was bad enough, but that he knowingly and willingly hurt his own tribe-member? It was too much for him to bear. He was operating without his logic, without calm and sharp tongue, which meant that all decisions were based off his own internal psyche destroyed by his horrifying encounter with the dragon, and he wasn't sure how reliable it could be.

"I-I..." The sea of faces surrounding the boy had blended into one single entity, filled with intense emotions-none of them good.

 ** _Murderer_**.

No... One look at the blonde girl he'd fallen in love with crumpled on the ground, curled up around her stomach where a deep stab wound was in place, the mutilated Nightfury, and the bloody knife in his hand... Not to mention the torrent of life essence covering him from head to toe.

"G-Guh-! Astr-!" He spluttered, nearly dropping the knife as he bit down on his amputated limb to muffle his screams, ignoring the pain. "N-Nuh..."

He couldn't even form the words to express his sorrow. He'd never felt this level of guilt before. He'd never known this much regret. Or even this amount of fear. But now that he did, he was unable to put a name to it. He didn't know what to do; he couldn't formulate a practical solution. He couldn't move. He didn't know where they were. And if his former self were to shut down completely, he wouldn't know what might happen to everyone else.

The aperture of Hiccup's eyes opened and closed with short, rapid movements. His pale body shook uncontrollably. Stoick watched quietly, not bothering to blink back the tears as his son's mind dissolved into a string of senseless apologies and low pitched keening while his thin body jerked in spasms.

"N-... Nuh..." Hiccup gurgled, flicks of spittle expelling from his mouth as he gripped the knife like a vice, his eyes staring widely ahead in horror yet without clear direction. He was broken. "Muh... I-Guh-I..." He choked unintelligibly. "S-Sorry, so so so-I-suh sorry..."

Was this logic, destroyed? Stoick was sure of many things, but this was beyond his expertise. "Hiccup-" He tried, reaching out, but the young boy backed away, jerking faintly with an overwhelming amount of fear.

"No-please! I-I didn't-no, no, no, I didn't mean-I didn't mean to-no!" Hiccup shuddered and nearly collapsed right then and there with his knees shaking beneath him, almost unable to support his lithe weight.

 ** _Murderer_**.

" _Dead. Dead. Dead. Astrid's dead. Dragon's dead. They're dead. Dun-dun, I'm dead_."

 ** _Murdered_**.

His mind was focused but haywire. He was unconscious but conscious. Dead but alive. Sanely insane. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't. It was impossible for him to do. A gasped sob forced its way past his lips as he hunched over and heaved. "N-No! I didn't-" Hiccup held the knife so that the razor sharp blade pointed skyway. "I didn't MEAN TO!"

No. Not any more. He wasn't alive anymore. He'd been dead since the day he was meant to die.

"I can't-no! ...Nuh, not anymore...not-no-no more..." He leaned his head back and tightly gripped the knife, arching it slightly so it pointed skyward. Everyone was tensed, waiting to see what he would do. For a moment, he just stood there, shaking. "Nuh..." he gurgled, a trail of saliva streaming from the corner of his mouth. "G- _Goodbye_."

Stoick's heart sank. His intentions were clear. "Wait-STOP!" He shouted, using all of his strength to rush forward and prevent his son from-

 _Shk_.

Ruffnut screamed, Fishlegs covered his eyes and turned away from the gruesome act, and Stoick felt the life drain from his being.

Hiccup collapsed onto his bony knees, the knife buried to the hilt in his skull. For a moment, all way still, all was quiet as the boy's jade eyes flickered upward to meet his father's, which were wide with shock and absolute devastation. He opened his mouth-Stoick tensed-and a bright red bubble formed between his lips. The chief's stomach churned when it popped and Hiccup's body fell to its side, it's dull emerald eyes staring blankly at the man.

"NO!" Stoick stretched out his arms and caught the body before it made contact with the ground. "No, please! Gods, NO!" He bellowed, his anguish echoing throughout the arena, inflicting the hearts of everyone there. "No, no, no, no, no... Come back..." He whispered, his gruff voice wavering. "Please, please, please...come back..." An instinctual drive told him to do all that he could to revive his child, to abandon all logic and do whatever it took to bring him back to life, but he could do nothing but watch and wait.

Watch as a sobbing Gobber removed the knife from his son's forehead.

Watch the torrent of blood trickle down the pale skin of his son's face.

Watch the color fade away from the emerald eyes of his son that would haunt him for the rest of his days, just as the Nightfury had done unto him.

...

 **Author's Note: ...What? I'm not making another chapter. Well, I'm not! *looks around nervously* Okay, I MIGHT. Alternate ending have always been a favorite of mine.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Well, I didn't go on hiatus at all. Nope. It's not like I have a senior project to finish in a few months and that the process of finishing said senior project will take me more than a few months. It's not like I had other stories to finish. It's not like I have school and a part-time job on the side. Nope. It's not like I have art that I have not finished. It's not like I have commissions to do and commissions to pay for. Nopepity, nopeity, no.**

 **I'm sorry but I have been so busy with my life in general that I haven't been able to pay special attention the story. It's especially sad because a lot of people seem to really enjoy the story and I've been getting messages of people wanting me to finish as soon as possible or at least update but again I have been very busy. Nonetheless, it's Christmas break and I have had a few days to finish this. Therefore, here I am, writing away when I should be working on my math homework.**

 **Anyway, cue the responses!**

 **Guest: It did escalate quickly, and for good reason as well! Hopefully this chapter we'll take the time to sit back a bit and watch the insanity ensue.**

 **Anticipation: I am! I am! I see you were so excited you typed your review in twice. How nice of you! ;)**

 **CheatEatLiarFire: Jesus man, I-I'm working on it. Please don't follow through with your death threat.**

 **Evilwrite37: You beautiful, beautiful child. I can't tell you how honored I am to have you review my stories. Much like FluentFletcher and Guardian of Azarath, you always leave something worthwhile, and I truly appreciate it. I truly hope you enjoy this chapter and the many to come!**

 **LifeBuzzBeer: What the skittles is correct!**

 **Noname: I know. I think I actually cried while writing that last chapter. And seeing how I broke a lot of readers, it means I've done my job!**

 **TheLoneWolf63: SQUEEEEEEEEEEE! I AM SO FLATTERED I CAN HARDLY EVEN TAKE IT! Oh… I'm feeling faint... Quick, gimme a HTTYD product! You beautiful Fanrat you! I'd give you a kiss if I could!**

 **A Person Who Likes Comedy: I'm TRRRRRYYYYYYIIIING!**

 **JohnnyLee619: Nope. It isn't. :)**

 **Deathjest: Hey, my story, my rules. I could turn Toothless into a watermelon and you couldn't complain, alright? Besides, since there are more alternate endings to come, I'll make that a possibility.**

 **Razor95: Listin…. I-I love you, okay? I really do. Just like I love all of my readers, but…unfortunately, this is a dark, dark tale. Maybe someday I'll get around writing a happier note, but for now, this gonna get dark. Really dark. But I appreciate your suggestion and I am beyond flattered by your praise, I truly am. I'd give you a kiss if I could.**

 **Midnightsky0612: Because I'm in charge.**

 **Rewired105: And now here's an alternate ending to an alternate ending to an alternate ending to an alternate ending! It just keeps getting better and better and better, doesn't it?**

 **MMM: Is it considered murder when you kill an animal? I think not. It's just an animal, after all.**

 **FluentFletcher: Fletcher, you are the best, and I say that with the upmost sincerity.**

 **TheForsakenTwist1: Not this time around, I'm afraid, for I haven't update this story for over a month! I'm terribly sorry for that! :(**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the HTTYD series. I'd be rich if I did.**

 **PS: please leave your reviews clean! I don't like swearing, so if I don't have it in my stories, be a good sport and keep it classy.**

 **...**

 **Alternate Ending**

 _If Hiccup had survived the attack but had come out with head trauma._

...

The last thing Hiccup remembered before nodding off was his father's screams of terror and rage, the dragon's teeth closing in around his throat to deliver the fatal bite, and the numbness that completely overtook his senses. After that, the dark took him, and he knew no more.

...

During that attack, something had gone terribly awry. Perhaps his head had struck the boulder the wrong way, or perhaps the Nightfury's claws had pinched the wrong nerve, but after the shadows took him, he TRULY knew no more.

...A few days later, when he at last awoke from his hazy sleep, bandaged from head to toe, apothecary drugs coursing through his veins that made him sluggish and drowsy, colors before his eyes swirling together and noises droning on and on...he croaked, eyes fluttering open to reveal their emeralds.

After the glow light, the first things he came to process were warm things layering his body. His rekindled instinctual drive urged him to move, but after a few tries, the most his sluggish body could accomplish was a mere centimeter of distance without paining itself.

Speaking of pain, a good sharp dose of it immediately overwhelmed his shoulder area and collarbone. This was caused by the movement of Hiccup attempting to lift his head off the pillow to try and see what was transpiring out of mere curiosity rather than fear or anxiety.

After a few more failed attempts at swiveling his head, Hiccup flickered his emerald, bloodshot eyes to his left, where he found a vast thing at his side, hunched over the bed with his face buried in his arms. He blinked at it and made a small noise of acknowledgement and curiosity.

Hiccup didn't know...didn't know...didn't...what? His mind seemed so much more sluggish than before, preventing his normal and daily thought process from activating. He didn't...didn't really know what anything was, what anyone was or had been, what anything had been. He sniffed and shifted his body again.

He couldn't speak. His brain struggled to comprehend what was happening and tried to process that into language-into thought, but all that emanated into his mind were the five senses: tasting, touching, seeing, hearing, and smelling. Nothing more, and nothing less.

Hiccup tasted something tart on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't make out what it was-other than it erred on the side of nasty. Perhaps it was an herb of some kind, but his mind was too slow to think of that. Instead, he stuck out his tongue and made a face of revulsion. Other than the soft breathing of the thing close to him and the soft patters of something above him on that large wooden thing, Hiccup could not hear a thing. Clenching the twitching fingers of his right hand, he grasped something that felt soft. Soft, he realized, was good. He patted the blankets beside him and made a small sound of satisfaction.

Feel...it hit him suddenly as he moved. The pain. The scorching burning sensation invading every inch of his ragdoll-like body. Hiccup made a small noise that sounded much like that of a baby animal and squirmed, then wincing at the sudden tenderness that afflicted his body when he did so.

This ache cause a thick layer of apprehension to shoot hastily through his spine, and Hiccup opened his mouth to cry out, only to discover with augmenting horror he couldn't assemble his voice without his throat constricting like a boa, enhancing even more pain than before. A hitched gasp escaped the confines of his mouth, followed by a series of coughing that burned his throat and chest, and he began to whimper hoarsely; nothing short of panicking.

Thankfully, Stoick came to, absolutely joyful at his son's awakening, but quickly took to a calm aura to soothe him. It was all he could to keep himself from picking up the boy and squeezing him in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, Hiccup... It's alright, son. It's alright. Just calm down, just calm down."

The unusually calm tone in his father's voice miraculously soothed Hiccup's panicked nerves and he settled quickly.

"You're safe now. You're safe..." Stoick smiled sadly at the sight of the prominent scarring on his boy's face. He found that his heart thumping tremendously and he brushed a few strands of Hiccup's auburn back away from his wild eyes. "There was a mighty bit of damage t' yer throat," he explained quietly. Hiccup, unable to recognize anything that the man was saying, quickly lost interest and swallowed hard and winced at the raw ache. "Gurg," he gurgled, blinking up at the ceiling pitifully.

Stoick, unmindful as he was and just now introducing himself to his awakened boy, missed the danger signals and kept on talking. "Et might take time before yeh can speak properly again, but yeh'll be alright. Up and at 'em soon enough-Ah can promise yeh that."

Hiccup made another small noise and squirmed again, bringing his hand, the one that hadn't been damaged beyond repair, into his mouth and began to suck on his cold fingers.

Stoick's eyes finally narrowed, and a shred of confusion made its way past his skull and into his thought process. "Uh...Alright then," he dismissed it, deeming the odd ministration as a mere nervous reaction.

Hiccup was not well in the head, and while it was blurred to Stoick, it was unclear to himself as well. Because not only did he not recognize his own language, but he had forgotten who he was, where he lived, where he was. Scattered, unfocused images of a being fighting a mightier creature swirled about in his mind like a typhoon, and he was unable to make sense of it all.

He opened his mouth to moan once more, but was only able to emit a hoarse gasp as his throat constricted. Stoick smiled a slight smile of pity. "Ah'm sorry, Lad," he apologized sorrowfully. "If Ah could give up my status, my wealth, my life... to prevent yeh from going through that sort of torture again, I would in a heartbeat."

Hiccup let out a small squeak and made the move to lift his arm and brush his hand against the man's cheek. Stoick sucked in a small breath and watched as the boy drew his hand back, examined it almost thoughtfully, before going back to sucking on his fingers again.

This reoccurring action finally made Stoick begin to question his poor son's mental state. Was he well? He wondered this to himself as Hiccup paused his ministrations to stare up at him, sniff like a wolf, and then go right back to what he was doing.

"Hiccup?" He whispered. His son responded not, happily chewing away at his fingers like a small infant would do out of boredom or for no reason at all. Stoick was flabbergasted, and a small bout of fear began to chip away at his heart. "Hiccup," he repeated, more stern this time around, but Hiccup seemed to not hear him. Was he deaf?

"Hiccup!" Stoick finally shouted, clapping his thunderous hands together like two wooden slabs. The noise was a loud one, and it caused the small teenager to yelp, squirming fearfully as his father squinted at him with even more confusion than before. "Hiccup," Stoick queried nervously. "Can...Can yeh understand me?"

The boy stared at him, and the man thought for a moment that he might've grasped the attention of the child, but his hopes fell flat when said child went back to sucking on his fingers, his fear gone, as if he had forgotten what had just transpired.

Stoick recognized his son's lack of ability for better words to speak and helpfully offered, "Blink thrice for "yes" and twice for "no"." This would work. He thought with poise, that his son just required a petite push in the right bearing and the correct method for communication. But to his horror, Hiccup didn't even acknowledge him, let alone blink at all, and for the first time that day, Stoick realized with devastation that his son might not be all there in the head.

"Hiccup..." he whispered, emerald eyes widening fearfully as they tried to make contact with his son's blank ones.

Now, ever since he was young, Stoick had been taught to always expect the unexpected and prepare for it accordingly, but nothing could've prepared him for this sort of ordeal. He wasn't the village healer who knew about the sort of things. He wasn't Gothi, a regular enchantress if he did say so himself. He was...and he hated to say it... _just_ the chief. He didn't know anything about posttraumatic stress disorder, or the mentally challenged. Heck, anyone born in that era with the assumption that he or she may not be...normal?-was to be put to rest at sea. That what needed to be done to children that couldn't be a functioning member of society.

He had heard of children being born with demons in their bodies, but he hadn't heard of...this. Was this permanent? Or was this just a temporary setback to a fragile mind? Either way, he didn't like it, and to be frank, it frightened him.

"Clausé?" He managed to force out, removing himself from the side of the bed and looking over the side of the loft. "Clausé?!" He called out a little bit louder in his gruff voice.

Down below, a timid healer was sitting quietly by the hearth, and upon hearing his name, he quickly stood up, nearly knocking over the set of fire pokers in the process. "Y-Yes! Yes Chief Stoick?" He called out softly, and the Chief motioned to him with a beckoning finger.

Clausé quickly obeyed, ascending the stairs until he stood before his ruler. "Chief?"

Stoick licked his lips, unsure of how to articulate his thoughts into words. "I…I don't think something is right with my son, Clausé. He won't respond to me when I call his name and he-he chews on his fingers!" And for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, he cursed the name of the Nightfury, the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself indeed. That wretched abomination, hurting his son, nearly killing him, trying to make him into a delicious meal. "I fear that he is not well—in his mind, I mean."

The once worried expression on the healer's face slowly transformed into one of serene calmness, much to the surprise of Stoick. "Ah...but Chief, zeir eez nozing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about?" Came the flabbergasted response of the other man. "Pray explain," he demanded gruffly.

"Sometimes," Clausé offered, "If somebody goes through a traumatic experience, sir, he or she becomes a wee bit addled in ze head. Eet is usually temporary and nozing to worry about."

"Are yeh sure?" Stoick asked, uncertain.

The man just laughed. "Of course! Zees things 'appen. Eet eez not unusual. What's more important right now is his physical state.

"Well good," the chief sighed with relief. "You'd better be right, Clausé."

The healer bit his lip. "Vell, eef I am wrong, there are ozher possibilities to consider."

Stoick stared at him with intimidation, that bout of fear returning like a slam to the gut. "Like...what?" He leisurely inquired.

Back on the bed, Hiccup let out a small yip, catching the attention of both men. They both turned with revelation to find the runty adolescent pawing at the air with his good hand and nibbling on the woolen blankets covering his body.

Clausé folded his hands with ambiguity as they both stared at the seemingly barmy youngster. "Um, vell, eef he does not get better mentally with a week, tell me or Gothi and we shall commence a thorough check up on the boy. Savvy?"

"Understood," Stoick responded with a small sigh, turning back to his son. "I will contact you if needed. You may go." With a small nod of dismissal, the healer left the chief's home, shutting the door quietly behind him as to not disturb the healing person inside.

Left in the dark, Stoick's thoughts instantaneously turned to that of the abject beast that had assaulted his son. It wasn't feasible to feel any empathy for it even after it had been captured and beaten to a bloody pulp by his men. In fact, a bout of fulfillment surged through his veins at the thought of the dragon meeting the end of its road.

Stoick softly advanced to his withering son, who had just learned the hard way that gnawing on a healing wound was not the best idea. Now his dead hand was redder and rawer than it had been before, and small teeth marks dotted the freckled area. Hiccup whimpered as his father approached, but leaned his head into his large hand (although it hurt the base of his neck to do so) when it reached down to stroke his auburn locks.

Stoick was more terrified than ever, it must be confessed, which was very incongruous to his name. He was an impassive person at the best of times, on the inside and out, and as fit as an ox. But what else could he possibly be feeling when his son was in the state that he was?

"It's alright to feel scared," Stoick assured himself as his son brought his hand to his mouth to gently chew on the fingers. "It may not be our way or the Viking way, but it's alright. It's alright to be frightened when your only child's mind is on the line."

Oh, _why_ had all of this happened? Oh yes. Because Hiccup had to go and get himself mauled-!

NO. Stop. Stoick closed his eyes and knelt down to his son's side, continuing to stroke his auburn locks that resembled his late wife's so much. It would be so incredibly easy to blame his son for what had happened, but in fact he was only partially to blame.

"It's my fault," Stoick whispered to his incoherent boy. "I should have listened to you. I should have followed you into the woods. I should have been there with you to protect you from that beast. Those ropes weren't strong enough to hold it down. I should've held it down with my own two arms while you plunged that knife into its chest."

That's what should have happened. His son would've been deemed the hero of Berk, for taking down the legendary reptile, for bringing it to justice for plaguing the village for all those years.

"Oh, Hiccup," he said aloud to himself more to his child, on the brink of falling into the deep abyss of devastation. "When will this end?"

Only in time, he supposed with tears in his eyes.

Only in time.

...

"..."

"Stoick? Stoick! Wake up!" A voice gently whispered in his ear. The man jolted awake, his hand instinctively clutching his axe at hand. He only relaxed when he realized that it was Gobber awakening him from his slumber.

"Gobber!" The chief breathed, stealing a glance at his son, who was out-cold. "Yeh nearly gave me a heart-attack! Don't yeh know it's dangerous to wake me up?!"

Gobber didn't answer at first. He looked very uncomfortable, and it confused Stoick. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Em... Well, Stoick," the other man began awkwardly. "Ah've got a message for ye. F-From th' healer."

Stoick's eyes narrowed. "What does _he_ want?"

Gobber rocked back and forth on his heel and prosthetic, looking as skittish as ever. "Wellll... Ah-Ah personally wanted t' tell yeh; because Ah love Hiccup just as much as you do. And well, Ah figured that news this big should be delivered and discussed between honorary family members-"

Stoick held up a hand to silence Gobber. "Just. Tell. Me."

Gobber shook his head to clear and got to the point. "A-Anyway, Gothi and Clausé are outside with their assistants. They're here to, em...perform an amputation."

Stoick took a start. He couldn't have heard that correctly. "What?"

Gobber sighed sadly, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. "An amputation. Ah'm just as shocked as yeh are, Stoick."

"Can't we let him heal for a few more days?"

"Well-We can't. He's developing an infection in his left hand-" Stoick closed his eyes. "-We can't let it spread."

"..." How could this be happening? "Yeh think it's wise to cut off an appendage when he's unconscious from th' loss of blood as it is?!"

Gobber gave him a look. "Now, Chief, it's not what I think is right. It's what Clausé thinks is right. Not t' throw him under the wagon er anything."

"..."

"Yeh alright?"

Stoick shook his head but tried to maintain an intoned expression. "Let 'em in," he muttered tonelessly, heading back into his son's room. Gobber sighed and wiped his weary eyes.

"Aye, Chief," he responded, his gruff voice cracking tremendously. "Ah'll-Ah'll just, yeah... Ah'll go do that."

Stoick didn't watch as Gobber exited the loft. He could hear the door open and the cluster of hushed, muffled voices enter the quiet atmosphere. He stood rigidly and walked to the top of the stairs to acknowledge the healers.

"Chief Stoick," Clausé began, clasping his hands together worriedly. "V-Ve have come to-"

Stoick said nothing and beckoned them all upstairs. "Do yeh want me t' move him?" He intoned, locking his eyes on the motionless figure on the small bed. Gothi, who reached the top of the stairs, shook her head and bopped Stoick's side with her staff when he grumbled.

"Zat won't be necessary, Chief," Clausé wearily assured the man. "Ve'll spare you ze trouble. Now ef...ef zhou could please vacate ze premises...?"

Stoick whipped his head around to glower at the healer. "Ah'm not leaving him."

"Chief..." Clausé trailed, extending a hand while Gothi gave the man a hard look.

"Ah'm not," Stoick insisted, drawing himself up as if he were afraid that they were going to physically force him out. "Don't try and make me!" He snarled when a gentle hand graced his shoulder.

"Stoick..." It was Gobber, the only person who was capable of ushering the stricken man from the room. "Et's alright," he soothed. "Et's alright. Your boy is strong. He'll be just fine in the end. Ye'll see!"

"B-But Gobber!" Stoick protested, looking on in horror as the group of people closed in around his son. He finished with a hiss, "Yeh don't really think Ah'm just going to sit by and let them-?"

"Ah don't," Gobber interrupted him with assurance and a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Because Ah'll be there with yeh. They need t' concentrate on what they're doin'. Ye don't want them to get distracted and for something to go wrong, ey?"

Stoick opened his mouth to protest yet again, but the thought of his presence causing a fatal mistake surpassed his stubbornness. He did not want to be the cause if his son were to forego any more agony.

"...Alright," he muttered, ducking his head to obscure his face from the other man's view as he shuffled down the stairs. "But Ah want yeh t' stay up there, Gobber. Make sure nothing goes wrong. D-Don't leave him!"

The blacksmith smiled sympathetically. "Wouldn't dream of et, Stoick."

Not entirely placated, the skittish man lumbered to the hearth and began to tend to it in a nervous bout of anxiety. Not only did he have an audible view of the surgical procedure, but… He shut his eyes.

"Please… Odin, don't take him from me yet. Not yet."

...

 _Razors slice into skin. Hi_ _ccup's skin. His pallid, reedy layer of tissue hemorrhages at the slightest laceration. It stings—no-more than stings. It festers. It stabs._

 _Saws crunch through his bones, leaving them shattered and splintered. It's raw agony. It's fire._

 _Thick, dark claws act as hooks and peel his bloody skin away, leaving him to resemble an ill-treated piece of game. It is chaste, utter torture._

 _"Nuh," Hiccup congests, a torrent of blood pouring from his hairline into his half-lidded emerald eyes. He can't speak. Can't see. Can't cry for help. For his father. He's going insane and the monster revels in it. The jade eyes of said monster are the only things flaking away the darkness in this world, bearing at him from all sides, driving him mad._

 _Stoick watches from afar, rooted to whatever ground exists, screaming out to his boy, trying with all his mighty strength to reach the poor child, but is quite unable to do so. It's killing him that he can't do anything, that he can only watch as his poor son is torn to bits._

 _The low, draconic rumbles answer Hiccup's plead before teeth gnash at his left wrist, tearing mercilessly through cartilage, veins, and bones. Blood spurts from the gaping wound like a geyser, and the rumbling transforms into something that sounded like brittle cackling, taunting him while he writhes._

 _Stoick begins to bellow, though he knows that both the monster and his son are death to his pleads, his cries._

 _It's all a game to the monster. A sick game of twisted puzzle: puzzle pieces of flesh that tear away from its prey's body._

 _"Nng..." Hiccup moans, flailing uselessly in the sea of inky blood. He is submerged, suffocating. "He...Help muh..." The claws jut forward and cram into his mouth, which cuts off his cries, and a torrent of blood follows its exit. His tongue has been ripped out._

 _Stoick bunches over, retching and coughing up his own torrent of blood to conjoin with his son's._

 _Hiccup gurgles hysterically as the beast grips the sides of his face and tears into him with those switchblades for claws, and soon, Hiccup's face is all but a bloody mess of muscle. His lips are gone, his ears are gone, his nose is gone, and his small jaw is misplaced. He's half-deaf and half-blind-blinded by blood._

 _Stoick hacks and hacks and hacks until he has hacked up his entrails, leaving them to fester. He's dead. Not really, but he might as well have been. Dead, but alive. Alive but as good as dead. The two bloody gaping holes that used to be his son's eyes leak tears of black liquid. Stoick hacks up a bone, a long, yellowish bone slides from his constricting throats and falls to the floor with a slight clatter._

 _A tremendous roar is what he hears, and at the climax of it all, the teeth close around his son's_ _torso and CRUNCH-_

Stoick awoke with a horrified gasp, sitting up with rapid flurry and grasping his trusty axe, bringing it to his chest, prepared to fend off any dragon that dared attack his family.

Nothing there. Just the inky blackness like the type to have been invading his heart for some time now.

Odin. Stoick brought a hand up to his face to rub his weary eyes. It had been nearly three weeks since the day his son had seen the gates of Valhalla and had been granted permission to return to the earth. Three weeks, which meant he had been plagued with nightmares for nearly twenty-one days. Each one of them was different but corralled? All the same. As long as it involved the death of his son.

Three weeks...his son had been in and out of consciousness all that time, his mental condition far too ambiguous to treat properly. Luckily, his wounds seemed to be healing nicely, much to the relief of the chief and Gobber and nearly everyone else in the village.

Stoick sighed and flopped back onto the wooden mattress of his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the floor of his son's loft, until a hoarse cry interrupted his thoughts.

He sat up immediately. "Hiccup?" He whispered, listening hard. Another cry and he was out of bed and rushing up the stairs. "Hiccup!"

His son was crying, growling and clenching his jaw, literally shaking from the pain. Stoick immediately picked up on his boy's distress as he rushed over to his side.

"Hiccup?" He whispered. "Hiccup, it's alright, it's alright..." He reached over to fondly cup the boy's cheek in his palm, where numerous gullies of tears made contact with his fingers. Hiccup let out a small, hoarse yip and managed to pivot his neck around and catch his father's fingers with his teeth. Stoick stiffened, just long enough to allow the youngster to thoroughly sink his canines into his flesh, causing the man to hiss and yank his fingers away.

Hiccup whimpered.

Stoick closed his eyes, wondering to what extent the dragon attack had damaged his son, not physically, but mentally. That cursed demon. It was its entire fault, destroying his child.

"It's over," he soothed. "It's over. It can't hurt yeh now. Not when Ah'm here. Ah'll keep yeh safe." Hiccup, still crying, leaned eagerly into the safety of his father's touch, absorbing the sweet security that came with him.

"I have to kill it," Stoick thought, eyelids drooping with fatigue. "I...I need to do it...for everyone...for my son...for...for myself."

...Hours later when Hiccup, finally overcome by the drugs and herbs, fell into a sluggish sleep, Stoick sat quietly. He didn't leave. He couldn't. How could he? An instinctual drive to protect his young surpassed all other matters and drove them into the back of his mind where they collected dust. The village could wait. Spitelout could finish documenting the accounts, Gobber would keep the forge running smoothly, and Silent Sven would take care of the herds. The dragons would just have to be fought off without him. Hiccup needed him more than anyone or anything, and by Freyja, he was going to be there.

He spent the remainder of the evening sitting quietly by his son's side, absentmindedly stroking his thick fingers through his auburn locks, wondering to himself how the boy was going to pull through. He had always been the fragile type, physically. But mentally? Hopefully that was a question he didn't have to answer.

...

"Stoick, c'mon, we need ya!" Came the discontented shout a commoner.

Stoick brushed by the man with ease and began to ascend the large hill that led to his home. In his arms were baskets of food that he had picked up with haste for his son, who was still bedridden for the most part. "For the last time, Gunnar," he growled, "it's not going t' happen!"

The man had been bothering Stoick about it for days now. Well, everyone had, but this guy especially. About the search for the dragons' nest that he had been promising everyone.

"C'mon," the man pleaded, actually clasping his hands together like a small child would to beg for crab-cake. "One more search, before the ice sets in."

Stoick stopped dead in his tracks, gave a huff, and whirled around with a sickly sweet grin on his normally impassive face. "And what do you propose I do with my son? Leave him for dead?!" His voice was eerily calm. Dangerous.

Gunnar didn't seem to notice. "Aw, get him a babysitter," he flippantly dismissed with a small wave of his hand.

Stoick blinked. "A babysitter?" He hadn't thought of that.

"Someone to watch him while we're gone," the man explained quickly, knowing that he had grasped Stoick's attention. "It's not as if you can watch him forever!" He added to top the cake.

That was true, Stoick had to sorrowfully admit. But to be quite honest, he wasn't quite sure that he would like to entrust his son's safety over to the hands of Gobber, who was nearly always busy, or his brother Spitelout, who had a general disliking for the boy and a terrible son to match. So who could do it?

"I trust no one," he dismissed, leaving Gunnar to sag as he ascended the hill.

Once he entered his home, he was surprised to find his son sitting on the floor, rolling a certain object in his hands. An axe. "Oh! Hiccup!" Stoick cried, rushing over to the youngster and gently but quickly plucking the hazardous weapon from his boy's curious hands. Hiccup flinched with surprise and looked to his father with wide eyes before reaching for the weapon once more.

"No, Hiccup," Stoick scolded his son, placing his weapon on a high shelf where he knew that Hiccup could not reach at his height. "Yeh could seriously hurt yeself, son. Ah don't want ye touching weapons anymore, understand."

Hiccup made a small whine of protest and tugged at his father's sleeve, but the man was resilient. "No!" He firmly proclaimed. "No axes for you." Oh, what was he saying? It was like Hiccup had reverted back into a three-year-old and... Stoick sighed.

"Here," he mumbled, reaching into a satchel sitting on the edge of the mantel. "Have this instead." Hiccup paused his whining for a moment out of curiosity and watched as the man drew out a wooden duck, one that he had carved himself just month or two ago, before this whole mess had transpired.

"See? Isn't it nice?" Stoick cooed, hunching over as his son plopped back onto the floor with a thud, observing the wooden toy thoughtfully. "Here. Take it." Hiccup slowly reached out and took the small craft from the man's hand and revolved it leisurely in his small digits.

Stoick nodded in approval. "There, you see? Much better, isn't-?" He paused upon discovering that Hiccup had taken the head of the duck in the hand and slammed it upon the unforgiving ground with a ferocity that only a nightfury could match.

 _Slam._

 _Slam._

 _Slam._

Until is snapped in half, the head rolling away. Stoick sat there on one knee, open-mouthed with horror as Hiccup grabbed the head before it rolled it of sight and held the piece up for his father to take with the biggest smile on his face.

It took a moment but he finally managed to muster up his own half-smile, one of confusion and slight fear. "Th-Thank you," he murmured, taking the headpiece from his proud son.

…

Astrid was busily sharpening her axe in her room when the Chief came came knocking at her door. Her father, Egil answered it of course, and was surprised to see Stoick standing there, looking as solemn as ever.

"Why, Chief!" The man exclaimed, capturing Astrid's attention from upstairs. The chief was in her home? "What a pleasant surprise! Won't you come in?" Egil invited, and Stoick smiled, wanting to get on this man's good side. "I'm sorry about what's happened to your boy," he apologized while closing the door after the man with genuine concern in his voice. "Ah sure hope he recovers well and that you give that Nightfury everything it deserves and more!"

"Thank you," Stoick replied with a tiny grin of his own that faded into seriousness soon after. "Listen," he said, getting right down to business. "I need something from you."

"Oh?" Egil's eyebrows rose with surprise. "And what might that be?" Upstairs in her own loft, Astrid leaned over the side, momentarily setting aside her axe to listen to the two men converse.

"Your daughter," Stoick solemnly revealed. Astrid reared back.

"...Me...Excuse me?" Egil shoved a burly finger in his ear. "Ah don't believe Ah heard yeh correctly. Yeh want me _daughter_?" He squawked.

"That's correct. Listen..."

The two men leaned in a way so that Astrid could hardly hear what they were saying.

"...Sounds horrendous..."

"...Stability interfered with..."

"...With her you say..."

"...Three pounds of silver..."

"DEAL! Astrid, honey?" Egil called out. "Could you please come h-? Oh! There you are!"

"Y-Yes Dad?" Astrid smoothed out her spiked skirt, put on her best grin, and hesitantly stepped down the stairs.

"The chief has a very important job for you," Egil happily revealed, clasping his hands together excitedly. "One that involves the next search of the dragon's nest."

That got her attention and even stole her breath away. "Th...The search for...?"

"You know Hiccup, right? The heir?"

Her high fell. A little.

"Yyyyeah." She mumbled, recalling all the times her counterparts had bullied him. She felt even guiltier now that he was in the state he was in.

"Well, the chief has assigned you to watch him while we go on the search!" Her father explained with a beam. "And you get enumeration as well! Isn't that grand?"

Well, she definitely hadn't expected this. "No!" She blurted, and immediately covered her mouth as the chief leaned back with surprise. "I-I mean..." she took a deep breath. "Sir, what I meant to say was, I don't think it would be especially grand if someone of my caliber was responsible for watching your son, s-sir." She bowed her head with embarrassment and rubbed the back of her neck.

After a moment's silence, the chief spoke. "Nonsense!" He boomed. "You two are friends, yes? And you are the most responsible of your peers, yes?"

"Uh...yes to the latter, with all due respect, sir."

He didn't seem to hear her, and if he did, he ignored her blatantly rude statement.

"I'm sure you two will get along just fine."

Astrid closed her eyes and tightened her fists. Of all the things that are chief had asked her to do in the past nothing came close to what the this entailed. Watching his mentally disturbed son for him? Really? Why couldn't Gobber do that for her, or one of the many adult villagers. Well, she was flattered that he saw so much potential in her, but not in the way she wanted: as a babysitter.

"Yes...just fine..."

There was no getting out of this one, was there?

...

…

…

"You have everything you need?" Stoick asked briskly, gathering his belongings and packing them away in a basket.

"Yes..." Astrid responded half-heartedly. The two of them were in his house and he was preparing for the long voyage ahead of him while also trying to repair Astrid for the long task ahead of her. "Coins for food-I got it all, sir."

In the background, Hiccup was on the floor, sitting Indian-style and happily playing with a small axe that he used to use as a paperweight. Stoick gave a slight smile as he approached his son, who glanced up at him with a giant smile. The man sucked in a breath and gave his son a gentle embrace. "Be safe," he whispered in the boy's hair, kissing the area before turning back to Astrid, who was fidgeting restlessly.

Alright." Stoick paused for a moment, and then put his hands on the girl's shoulders. "Astrid, I am entrusting his safety to you. If he gets out of hand, be patient. If anything goes wrong... just," he closed his eyes, "...run away, alright?"

Astrid nodded slowly, azure eyes wide.

"Alright," Stoick nodded, and turned his back. "I'll be back," he dismissed. "Probably."

And I'll be here," she dully replied as he shut the door behind him. "Maybe."

She turned her head slightly to meet the eyes of the small teenager sitting on his knees on the floor, looking back up at her curiously.

She swallowed hard. "Um...Hiccup?"

He blinked, and then began to chew on his fingers.

Her face fell. This might be harder than she had previously assumed. "Great. You can't understand a word I'm saying," she sighed irritably. "Well, listen to this. I'm not here because I care about your wellbeing. I'm here because your father is an honorable man and deserved much better than you."

Hiccup, it seemed, still couldn't understand her. It irked her, the way he ignored her so.

"It's a disgrace," she went on, shaking her head as the once sharp boy beneath her gave her a goofy, crooked smile and thrust his slobbery fingers out to her, causing her to grimace. "See, this is what I mean. If this is what it's going to be for the next two weeks or so, I swear to Thor-I'll tie you up in the woods and leave you there."

Hiccup shakily got to his feet and she froze. With a small murmur, he began to explore the downstairs of the kitchen, touching random objects and sucking his fingers in the process.

"Hey!" Astrid barked when she collected her resolve. "Look at me while I'm speaking to you!"

She stomped over without a second thought and grappled his shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain as his wounds throbbed tenderly. "Oh! Cripes!" She quickly released his shoulder.

Hiccup fell to the floor, his face scrunched up with pain.

Astrid stared down at him as he began to whine and cry in that nasally voice of his. "Oh, don't do this to me," she groaned. "I can't do this for long."

He continued to cry until she quickly snapped.

"C'mon." She grabbed him from behind by the waist and tried to haul him upstairs, which was especially difficult considering that he squealed and constantly wriggled, like a slippery bar of soap trying to escape her grasp. She screwed up her face and tried to keep her cool but lost it when they made it up the stairs.

She threw him to the ground. He lay there, blinking rapidly and whimpering pathetically. She watched him without remorse.

You're staying up here," she growled, "until morning. Now get dressed for bed and go to sleep."

He sniffled, unsteadily got to his feet, and followed her down the stairs. She didn't even realize that he was following her until he bumped into her from behind. "Oh no you don't!" She growls. "You're staying up there!"

She grabbed his arm-the uninjured one this time, and drags him upstairs once more, shoving him toward the bed until he tripped over his own feet and fell onto the wooden mattress.

"There," she panted, as it had been a struggle to move him to where he belonged. "Now get dressed and get ready for bed. Stoick'll kill me if I don't do this properly."

Hiccup just blinked at her and looked uncertainly around him.

Astrid stared at him and then groaned. Why her?

...

 **Author's Note: Next chapter is gonna be SO FUN! XD And there is a HUGE twist revolving around Hiccup's condition, so stay in your seats! ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I'm so excited that everyone likes my story so far. I did not expect much of a reaction from people about Hiccup's brain damage but I was wrong for the most part. Because I got a lot of love, here is another update for you! And because I am so kind, here is a three-week early preview for the next chapter. Get it? It was FAST.**

 **Rayvin587: Okay, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I hate you too. I hate the way you make me feel like my writing's worthwhile while I think that it's crud on the other end of the spectrum. (Compared to other works of course). I hate that whenever a meaningful review like yours pops up, I squeal with joy like a bozo and eagerly click the link, just so I can get a glimpse of the whole thing. I hate that you make me feel good. I know that sounds rather retarded, but it's true. ;) So with that said and done, thank you so much for your kind words. It's always so flattering to hear someone leave a lengthy review telling me just how awesome I am. Cause that's the truth isn't it? Lol. No, but seriously, thank you so much for leaving a review. I hope you leave another one in the future. Perhaps not for this chapter, but in the future in general. Thank you!**

 **razor95: Thank you so much for your understanding. I try my best to conform with many of my readers opinions and ideas but sometimes I like to set them aside and just focus on me and my own ideas. Don't get me wrong, I love it when people are intrigued with my work and they want to offer their own pointers, and for the story I actually need a lot of those for future alternate endings, but for now, this particular story I want left alone for myself to write. ;) I hope you leave a review for this chapter as well! I worked really hard on it.**

 **Guest: Yes, it seems as though Astrid will not be going on the dragon hunt with the adults after all. She can't even go to dragon training now because she needs to babysit the chief's son. Poor Astrid.**

 **Milo: You're the fabulous one, darling!**

 **TheForsakenTwist1: You will just have to wait and see what happens. There is a rather big twist coming up about Hiccup's condition.**

 **CassandraDayTree: I would say that Astrid deserves every second spent with Hiccup and more. ;)**

 **Noname: Hey man! You tempt me; you tempt me more than anything else. But alas, I need to keep it a secret until the right moment in time. And yeah, the dream sequences are always very fun to write mainly because they're always so gory and I like writing gore.**

 **A Person Who Likes Comedy: I will. ;)**

 **CosmicEssence: Haha! I'm glad you couldn't stop reading. I know very well that this doesn't match the makeup of the show. That's intentional, because it is, after all, an alternate universe in which the plot differs from the actual story. I do hope I kept everyone in character, and that you were able to see them for who they were. Thank you so much for your review! I hope you leave another one for this chapter.**

 **Guardian of Azarath: Oh, trust me, Astrid will be doing more than just pulling out her braids, my friend. Hiccup is a handful, even for a Viking, and his awkward presence is enough to send her reeling with a headache. Haha! Thank you so much for your review! I hope you leave one for this chapter so I can see what you think.**

 **FluentFletcher2: Thank you for your review! It always warms my heart to see your name pop up in my junk mail. Lol.**

...

Chapter Six

...

 _Alternate ending: If Hiccup had come out of the attack with head trauma._

 _..._

Astrid had never been more uncomfortable in her life. After realizing that Hiccup now lacked the basic smarts to even dress himself, she knew with resounding abhorrence that she had to do it herself.

Oh...what a delight...

It was after handing him his creamy nightgown when she realized what a difficult situation this was going to turn out to be. He grabbed it, looked at it, and then placed it on his head, smiling a big smile while the long sleeves curtained his freckled face.

Astrid slapped a hand over her own face, leaving a red mark in its place. "Hiccup," she moaned in extreme vexation. "Don't do this to me."

The boy didn't seem to notice her irritation while he swung his legs back and forth as he sat on the edge of the bed, much like a small child would do out of boredom.

At that, Astrid chewed her bottom lip and folded her arms, frantically trying to think of a way out of the preordained task, but it was no use. She knew what she had to do, and she was sure that she'd be breaking a few Viking laws along the way as well.

"Alright," she huffed, reaching with her outstretched hands to clasp his uninjured shoulder and steady him. "Just, bear with me Hiccup, okay?" With a small sigh and shudder, she pulled him off of the bed to stand on his two feet. Looking away, she removed his bear-fur vest, undid his belt, took hold of the hem of his forest green tunic, and slowly pulled it upwards, careful as to not jostle or brush against his healing wounds. Once she got it over his head (an arduous process within itself) she moved on to his...trousers. She swallowed hard. "Thor almighty. Please forgive me for what I am about to do."

She refused to even glance at Hiccup, who just stared at her with wide innocent eyes as she undid the laces of his trousers and quickly pulled them down. "Argh!" She yelled brusquely, digging her fingers into her scalp as she turned on her heels. "This is disgusting! What am I _doing_?!" Hiccup babbled excitedly along with her, shaking a loose fist and snorting somewhat.

"Oh shut _up_!" She snarled, yanking his nightgown off the dresser and thrusting it at him. "Here. You do it," she demanded, and after making sure that he had it within his grasp, she stomped downstairs to make herself a snack and set up her own sleeping arrangements.

"What a lunatic," she growled to herself, stomping down the last of the stairs and turning to the chief's bed. Well, as things were going, she might as well sleep there. After all, he had left his crazy son in the hands of a shield maiden, not a nanny. In fact, why hadn't he gotten a nanny? That's what she was wondering as she reached into the cupboard and brought out an apple. What was going on through his-?

"Herk!" Came a gurgled yip from the top of the stairs. Astrid hardly had any time to turn around before a skinny mass of flesh tumbled into her, nearly knocking her off of her feet.

"Ow!" She shrieked. "What in the name of-oh Gods." She clenched her fists and did yet another complete 180, utterly refusing to look at the other teenager as he stood there, looking quite innocent while in fact he didn't have a stitch of clothing on. "Hiccup..." she said slowly. "What. Is. Wrong with you?" A small bit of gibbering was her answer and she sighed, turning around soon after but still refusing to look at him.

"Just think of him as a baby," she advised to herself. "A small baby. Alright. C'mon Hiccup," she carefully ordered, taking his trembling hand in hers after a few moments of struggling and tugging him in the general direction of the stairs. Astonishingly, he conformed, following her up until they got back into the loft, chortling all the way. "Let me help you," she exhaled, and picked up the nightgown from where it had fallen on the wooden floor.

Hiccup watched her with an impenetrable countenance she couldn't place- or see for that matter-as she tugged the negligee over his head. "There," she puffed with finality. "Done." She smoothed it out, making sure that it concealed all before backing off a bit. "Time to go to bed now, okay? _Bed_ ," she stressed, pointing to the small wooden structure. Hiccup didn't follow her finger, but instead smiled absorbedly at her, playing with the hem of his nightgown. It took Astrid rotating his head around and pulling him to the bed that he finally got in, hugging his knees and biting hard at his hand.

She sighed for what seemed the umpteenth time that day and laid him down on his back and gently draped the quilted blanket over him. "There you go," she soothed. "All better now, hm?" Hiccup made a small yip in response and Astrid gave him a tired grin.

"I don't know how your father does it," she mumbled before descending the staircase into her makeshift bed on the floor. It was weird, falling asleep inside the chief's house with his crazy son just a few meters away. His son... it was so hard to believe that his son had survived the attack of a monster so legendary. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. How had he done it? Escaped with his life, although scathed?

" _Chief saved him, just like he saved him all those other times during the raids. Really, has anything changed?"_ She thought to herself, and it made sense. Hiccup had been deemed a hero for taking down a nightfury. In her opinion, if anyone was a hero here, it was the chief for beating off the dragon and getting his men to capture it. "And it's still in the arena," she whispered, heart pace quickening at the notion. That's right. The atrocious creature had been placed in the death ring along with all the other ill-starred dragons that had been apprehended during the raids. What she wouldn't give to see it...

"..."

In fact... "Why shouldn't I?" She smirked impishly, tapping a finger against the wooden floor and sitting up soon after. "Tonight. I'll go tonight. Hiccup can take care of himself for a few minutes." And with that said and definite, Astrid threw the blankets off of her body, heeded quietly for a moment, and then ran for the door, swinging it open (shutting it quietly) and then tearing for the arena.

The nearly winter ether chilled her pallid skin as she ran, wearing right through her reedy clothes, her hot breath freezing mid-air. She wouldn't have minded as much except that she was lacking a fur coat. Luckily, there was a full moon tonight that shone its gracious rays to light her path. It redirected off everything, more or less.

Despite her moonlit path, it was a lengthy trek, and although she was fast, it was a ten minutes journey. Upon arriving through the metal gate, she made a quick look-around to make certain that nobody else was there. Unexpectedly, the only guard on duty was Bucket, and he was fast asleep against the stonewall of the arena. It was strange. Why would Stoick assign only ONE guard to- oh right. All the other adults had gone on the mission to find the dragon's nest. Lucky for her, of course.

Softly chuckling to herself, the female tiptoed past the man and made her way into the ring, where dragon training WOULD have taken place for her, but now she had to watch the chief's runt of a son.

No. **Stop**. Thinking like that would help nobody, she scolded herself, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Right now was all about the Nightfury. Buoyant that it was bound, she pulled the small lever that opened the doors to the dragon's cage and stepped inside.

It took but a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when they did, the sight to behold was worth the freezing run. The creature was darker than the inky blackness of night. Its scales adopting the shine of black tar, glittering in the moonlight. Its powerful wings tied to its body, and said body trapped within a mock stock-like contraption. Its razor-sharp claws were caked with mud and the faint crimson of blood. _Hiccup's_ blood. But that hadn't come to mind.

Magnificent.

Astrid stepped closer, examining the broad muscles of the beast, how they shifted and bulged with every inhale and exhale. It was... "Amazing," she foolishly said aloud, and she slapped a hand over her mouth instantaneously after. Incredibly enough it did nothing to wake the beast, and she quickly relaxed, as it remained immobile.

" _Well, that was dumb,"_ she thought stupidly, brushing her platinum braid off of her shoulder in slight embarrassment. She stepped closer to get a better look, but as she was doing this, a small murmur grabbed her attention. She whipped around, her mind frantically dreaming up about a hundred excuses as to why she was here in the middle of the night, but stopped as soon as she realized who was standing before her.

"Hiccup?" She squeaked. It was indeed him, settled there in his negligée, looking relatively ethereal in the moonlight as it quivered in the slight wind. Did he stumble his way here? How did he get here so fast? "What are you-?"

A shrill howl cut through her question. Astrid swallowed hard, and turned to find the beast wide-awake, its emerald eyes lustrous in the moonlit grotto.

"Oh Gods," she whispered, spellbound by those corpulent eyes. Those were the intelligent orbs that the chief's son had stared into the moment before he was mangled. The thought frightened her, notwithstanding her bout of valor by coming to this place, and she backed away.

"Uh, okay. Hiccup, let's go," she asserted, turning away from the bushed beast and seizing the male's arm. To her astonishment, however, he refused to move and instead stared arcane into the eyes of the beast, that glazed look he had recently espoused, gone.

Astrid watched with confusion as he inhaled sharply, the aperture of his eyes blinking rapidly as he shook his head. The beast stared back, growling softly, as though it recognized its almost-meal. Hiccup gasped abruptly, stepping back as his head whipped around to face Astrid. That look... that expression on his face was undeniable. For moment, it seemed to Astrid as though his mind had returned...but then...it was gone in the blink of an eye.

Back was that vacant, imprudent look in his eyes.

She had no time to think. "Hi-Hiccup, come on," she urged frenziedly, jerking at his arm, the one that was unscathed. "It-It can't get to you, not while it's chained up. Let's go."

He didn't move, but instead let out a small uneasy whine.

"Hiccup run!" Astrid hissed, becoming extremely concerned for his mental well-being. What was the consequence of him seeing his attacker?

"Ok, what's going on down there!?" Came Bucket's stern call. Uh oh. The lone guard was awake.

"Run!" Astrid screeched, grabbing Hiccup's hand and yanking him along, and together, they raced out of the arena and back onto the moonlit path to home.

Astrid ignored Hiccup's garbled protests as she sprinted-she refused to stop until they got to the house. A wave of relief washed over her as the hill with the chief's humble abode perched on top appeared.

"That," she gasped out winded as she resignedly unbolted the door, "was totally worth it." And it was, truly. That marvelous creature was worth any bit of time she had. It was such a shame that Hiccup the crazy one had to step in and ruin it all for her.

Speaking of which...that moment of clarity that he had-she'd seen it too-was nothing like she'd ever seen or heard of. It was so strange, like he had suddenly reverted back to a rational human being before-... Meh. What was she thinking? It was probably just another mentally broken episode that couldn't be kept under control.

She huffed, placing her hands upon her hips as Hiccup limped past her and collapsed on the floor, wheezing and puffing, for he was just as out of breath as she was. "Good job keeping up with me, Hiccup," she complimented the boy, watching as he held his feet with pain. "Next time though, you ought to stay put-what are you doing?"

He was trying to...bite at the soles of his feet, like a dog trying to groom itself in a...weird way.

"Okay, okay, stop," she ordered, kneeling down to grab his feet with both hands and tug them away from his hand and mouth. "What is wrong with-? Oh."

There was an abundance of thorns deep in his feet. She winced, recalling how he had been barefoot while she had at least boots to wear. That must have been painful-no wonder he was whining the whole way home!

"Oh boy," she sighed. "Here, lemme..."

The next half hour was horrendous. Trying to keep Hiccup still was like trying to herd in Nadders: impossible. That and digging thorns out of skin: not fun at all. When she finally completed the task, she leaned back and fell to the floor, tossing the last thorn over shoulder into the fire pit. "Thank Thor that's over."

Hiccup wriggled his toes and smiled happily. Oh, so much he wanted to say but couldn't. If only he could! He would tell the girl and the older man so many things, but his mental state quite prevented him to do so. It was a shame, really, that such an intelligent boy he had been reduced to this.

"I'm going to sleep," Astrid yawned tiredly. "C'mon let's get you back to bed."

Hiccup was clearly wide-awake, but to Astrid's utter shock, he stumbled on over to the stairs and ascended them, leaving her to stand and wonder.

The interaction between he and the dragon was forgotten.

...

...

...

The next morning...

Astrid didn't fancy being stared at, for neither fortunate nor unfortunate reasons. So to avoid said rubbernecks, she decided to bring Hiccup with her to target practice. It was the only time she could be alone to enjoy herself and to exercise her taut muscles. This will be easy enough, she thought to herself as they walked along the familiar path. " _I just have to keep an eye on him so that he doesn't wander off and I can keep practicing_." It sounded so simple, but little did she know, it would become much more complicated than that.

The village plaza was nearly empty, as nearly every adult had gone out to find the dragon nest, save for Mildew, Bucket, and silent Sven, the sheepherder. It was peculiar for the habitually bustling village to be so quiet, but then again, this wasn't the first time that the adults had gone out to search for the nest. She could remember all the way back to when she was very young. And she was sure that her father and mother could remember all the way back to when they were young, and their father and mother, and their father mother...all the way back to when the Vikings first sailed here.

"This war," she thought miserably, "this war has no end. I don't want my children to die a death of fire and pain. I certainly don't either." But what was the use? She would fight on with her counterparts, her brothers and sisters of war, and then she would die-probably alone-between the jaws of a monstrous nightmare. Her counterparts would also die a similar death, and as for Hiccup...? Who knows? He'd probably be fed to the dragons after being deemed as expendable. That's just the way his life was set to be.

Astrid gritted her teeth and looked back to make sure Hiccup was still following her along the trail. He was, but very distractedly, admittedly.

 _Him_. She seethed quietly. If it weren't for _him,_ she would be practicing to protect the village in the arena, along with her true counterparts-not this dolt!

"C'mon, Hiccup," she barked, beckoning him with her trusty axe. "Don't want a terrible terror to uproot you where you stand. Your father would kill me." And he most likely would if anything happened to his little boy, so she had to be especially careful.

"Ah. Here we are," she proclaimed with relief as they reached her favorite training grounds. She set down her basket of breakfast and equipment and then looked to Hiccup who was now on his hands and knees, cautiously spectating a mantis. "...Okay, you just..." she gestured wildly with her hands, "...do whatever you do. Yeah."

He didn't even look up to acknowledge that she had spoken, so Astrid gave up, swinging her axe over her shoulder with an overly-exaggerated sigh. "Well," she huffed, "you don't know what you're missing. Other than half your brain," she mumbled. Hiccup just chuffed at the mantis, watching with fascination as it fluttered its wings and tried to fly away. Amazingly, he managed to clasp his hand around the bug and gripped it tightly.

Astrid appeared not to notice, but instead began to swing her axe around and throw it at trees. As Hiccup played with the now dead bug, she began to get into the groove, adding a few tumbling ministrations to her exercises. As she began to sweat from the exertion, she noticed that Hiccup had gone oddly quiet for a while. She paused her physical activity to find him just sitting there, staring.

"What?" She asked irritably when he continued to gaze. "What do you want?"

His eyes trailed down to her axe and she understood. "Oh," she realized with slight surprise. "Would you like to see it?" She offered it out to him and he smiled an open-mouthed smile before hopping over to her.

He promptly took it out of her hands and before she could really do or say anything, he spun around, swinging the ax with all his might. Astrid screeched and ducked at the last second before the blade came into contact with her forehead.

"What the-?" She managed to shriek, falling backwards onto her behind. "What are you doing?!"

Hiccup didn't even stop to glance at her. He just laughed and spun, nearly taking off her head in the process, clearly thinking that what he was doing (what she HAD been doing) was some sort of game that he so desperately wanted to play.

She pounced on him without a second thought, shoving his broken body onto the mossy ground and shouted in his face. "Are you insane?! You could have killed me! You Gods-forsaken IDIOT!" She pinned his legs with her own and pinned his arms above his head, uncaring of his injuries.

For a moment, Hiccup did nothing but squirm, which gave Astrid enough time to notice that his eyes that had once adopted a glazed look had now gone _focused_ and fearful, staring up at her like she was a hungry **_dragon_** -…OH. No wonder he was white in the face and dribbling with anxiety. No wonder he was-

Hiccup whimpered pathetically, and suddenly, Astrid felt something warm and wet seep into her skirt and leggings.

"Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me..." She seethed.

…

The best course of action, Astrid decided with embarrassment, was to go to the secluded beach on the far side of the island. It was the perfect place to go and wash their clothes after the unfortunate little "incident", and it would spare the both of them the humiliation. So off they went.

The whole way there was a fiasco to be sure. Hiccup had wanted absolutely nothing to do with Astrid after said incident in which she physically attacked him, so she had to take it upon herself to literally slog his rag-doll body to the littoral herself.

"Would you relax already?" she snapped at him as he tried to run away for the tenth time since they had initiated their hike. "Geez, you're slobbering all over me! Quit it!"

Hiccup just yipped a small yip in response and Astrid rolled her eyes.

"Dunderhead," she scoffed, hauling her basket along, which seemed lighter than before. "Wait, don't tell me you ate my breakfast too!"

...

When they finally came across the secluded beach, Astrid wanted to clean their clothes more than anything else, and yes, she would rather use salt water than risk going back to the village getting water from a well. So she literally dragged a shrieking Hiccup into the ocean, by his _hair_ mind you, and dunked him under.

Strangely enough, the water seemed to enliven him more than upset him, and Astrid managed to strip him of his trousers before leaving him to play and splash in the waves.

"Have fun," she dismissed him dully as she took off her own leggings to scrub along with his. She really wished she had some soap. Or at least some—

SPLASH!

Astrid let out a small screech and whipped around—only for another wave of water to splash her in the face. She even managed to get a mouthful, and she spat in revulsion. "HICCUP!" She bellowed, wading through the salty ocean water to get to him, but he only laughed before hopping away, splashing her AGAIN.

"You…! You!" She bit her tongue, refraining from making very inflammatory comments to the other teenager. "Son of a…half-troll, rat-eating mange bucket…" She grumbled, wading through the water, ire still fresh in her mind as she finally reached the boy, grabbed him by the hair with one hand, and slapped him with other, hard. "FREAK!" She screamed while Hiccup merely splashed her again, laughing almost hysterically. "Y-You _freak_!"

The boy cackled, splashed her one last time before sinking beneath the ocean with a small splash. Astrid quickly waded over to his spot, waiting for him to resurface, fully prepared to beat him if she had to.

"…"

A few bubbles here and there…

"…"

Nothing.

"…"

Wait. Astrid's cyan eyes widened. He…He couldn't be _that_ stupid, could he? She didn't want to wait any longer to find out, so she abandoned the clothes and dove under the water, located him rather quickly, and tugged him up to the surface. With her she brought a blue-in-the-face Hiccup, coughing and sputtering pathetically as Astrid groaned, taking him under her wing while she gathered the clothes with the other.

"Seriously? I waste my precious training time because YOU soiled yourself, just to save your moronic self from drowning in waist deep water? Seriously?!"

Hiccup answered not, but coughed, and Astrid groaned once more as he barfed up a load of seawater. "Don't tell me you drank that stuff too…" Hiccup belched loudly, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. " _Boys will be boys, no matter how smart_ ," she concluded with a sigh as the waded back onto the rocky beach.

Astrid watched as Hiccup abruptly fell to his knees, and an alarm went off in her head. "Uh... You okay?" She found herself asking, although she could be sure that she cared little about his well-being. Luckily, Hiccup just babbled incoherently. He had just found a small blue seashell and was observing it closely.

"Huh. You like that?" Astrid asked in surprise. Well, it _was_ pretty, but she hadn't assumed that boys would be interested in that sort of stuff, no matter how brainless they were. "Well, there are other interesting things to do at the beach. Things that DO NOT involve splashing. C'mere."

Hiccup followed her to a small patch of flat sand, warbling curiously as she patted the area. "Look," she ordered, scooping up a bunch of the silky sand and shaping a mound. "See? A sand castle! And-" she grabbed a nearby twig and perched it atop of the small hill of sand. "There. Now you try!"

Hiccup grabbed a handful of sand and promptly flung it at her face.

...

The clothes had been forgotten. It had taken nearly half an hour for Astrid to wash all of the sand out of her ocean-blue eyes, and nearly ten minutes for her to even find the ocean in the first place, for she had been blindly stumbling around the whole time.

Hiccup had at last learned on his own that sand was best left out of the faces of friends and on the ground instead after Astrid had madly beaten him. He happily made about ten castles before tromping and smashing them like a dragon through a herd of sheep. Hiccup, Astrid concluded as she rubbed her runny eyes, had quite the destructive personality.

Remembering her own treasures, she set aside the clothes and took a small seashell out of her removable pocket. "Hiccup, look!" The boy looked up and followed her gaze to the small pink seashell in her hands. His eyes widened in apparent astonishment, and she actually let out a tiny laugh as he dropped the shell he was holding.

"It was my aunt's." Hiccup stared at it and makes a small yip of appreciation. Astrid smiled. "It's pretty isn't it?" Her beam faded somewhat in reminiscence. "Before she had to pay tribute to Odin and sail to the edge of the world…she gave me this. This is…It's like a memento of my aunt's memory."

Hiccup plucked it from her hands, scrutinizing it thoughtfully.

Huh.

"...What is it?" Astrid asked. He was observing it with the upmost concern. Is there something about it that he recognized? Or did he think it was a toy?

It seemed to be the latter, for he promptly broke it in half, smiling proudly while Astrid sat there in the sand with her mouth open. It took a moment for her to gather her resolve, but when she finally did, she was _not_ happy.

"What are you doing?!" She shouted, shooting up from the sand to grab his collar with both hands. "I just said it was a memento of my aunt's memory! What were you thinking?" Her clenched hands shook as she glared into his stupid face. "Was-Was that supposed to be some kind of _joke_?!" Hiccup was surprised to say the least by her reaction, and frightened as well. He dropped the two pieces of shell to the ground to bring his hand up to his face and cower.

With a growl of rage, she threw him to the sand, ignoring his cry of pain as his broken body smashed to the ground.

"You know what?! You can leave! Just get out of here!" She screamed, tears of anger welling up in her eyes. She kicked at the sand, spraying him in the process. "I've had it up to here with your nonsense! GO!"

Hiccup obeyed, childish tears of hurt already running down his cheeks as he stumbled away into the woods, with just his belt and tunic to cover him up.

Astrid stood stagnant, breathing quite densely as she watched him disappear. Her eyes trailed from that spot in the woods after a while and found the two small pieces of pink shell that her aunt had given her when she was young. Astrid dropped to her knees and bowed her head in remembrance and sadness. "Gods..." she whispered, clenching and unclenching her fists. "I hate him...I-I _hate_ him..."

" _Untrue_..."

"It _is_ true!" She shrieked at her subconscious. "If that idiot would have just kept his hands to himself, this wouldn't have happened."

...

Hiccup rocketed through the woods, his unprotected legs and feet catching many thorny bushes and sticks, causing him to cry out and tear up. Everything seemed to hurt lately...whether the cause was nature itself or some other probability.

After a while, he stopped running, sniffling pathetically, and continued to walk. He hadn't meant to make the girl angry with him-he had just wanted to play with her! She was very pretty, and helped him get home when he had gotten lost. But...but why was she so mean to him? He couldn't understand it. Well, then again, he couldn't understand the concept of anger or meanness or happiness to begin with. All he knew was...something about that thing in the cage.

What _was_ that?

His broken mind struggled, trying its hardest to comprehend what he had seen at the cave. It was big-that was for sure-and dark and-and scary, because it had growled.

Hiccup stopped.

He blinked.

He blinked again. Something in his mind clicked.

He shuddered.

"A-Ah!"

It clicked.

"D-Dr-Dra," he whispered, wrapping his arms around himself. His mind...something had happened during the attack. Perhaps he had hit his head too hard against the boulder or perhaps the trauma with itself was too much for him to handle. Either way, it was broken. He was broken. But could he be fixed?

He wasn't sure. He needed to go home. He needed to get his father. He needed the security and warmth.

He cried out, eyes wide and teary, and took off into the woods without a second thought.

...

Back on the beach, Astrid sat solemnly, still gravely debating whether or not she should go look for the chief's son. On one hand she wanted nothing to do with him after what he'd done to her aunt's memory, but on the other hand, she knew that if any harm would befall him, great harm would come to her.

She had a job to do. A mission to fulfill. A task to complete. And by the Gods, she was going to have to do it and not let her feelings get in the way of what was really important.

"But..." She needed to do it.

What would her father think upon his arrival back home? What would her mother think upon her arrival back home? Oh Odin, what would the _chief_ think? That scared her ten times over what her mother could ever do to her. She quickly got to her feet, punishments fresh in her mind as she pocketed the two pieces of shell and sprinted for the woods.

It was quite easy to find Hiccup, for he had left a pretty conspicuous trail. In the end she had found him in a small cove, crying softly to himself. The glazed look had returned to his eyes, not that she had seen it go away this time in the first place. Astrid watched guiltily as he curled himself up against a small rock, his face in his knees and revealing pretty much everything there was to see. She had significantly calmed down and was ready to reconcile the tension between them.

"Oh, Hiccup," she sadly sighed before grasping his hand. He yanked his hand away and she bit her lip to keep herself from scolding him. After all, it was her fault that he was so disagreeable now. "C'mon. Let's wash you up."

Hiccup revealed his face, an angry crimson, streaked with tears, and actually gnashed his teeth at her before hiding his face once again. The action surprised her, but not enough to unseat her determination, and she tried again.

"Hiccup?" No response, so she knelt down next to him and softly touched his knee.

To her utter shock, his leg dashed out and compacted to her chest, sending her backwards reeling with pain. That boy could kick _hard_. Once again, the urge to beat him came, and again, she shoved the feeling away. Breathing heavily, the female teenager got back to her knees and leaned over him.

"Hiccup," she stated, heart racing in her chest. "I...I don't know if you can understand me but I'm..." she swallowed hard, feeling sick to her stomach, "...very sorry about hurting you." She paused, and then with a bit of angry flourish, added, "If you had kept your hands to yourself...it wouldn't have happened."

Hiccup just whimpered and Astrid sighed. "I..." she closed her eyes. "Why did this have to happen? I mean-why was it me? Why did the chief choose me to take care of you?! I can't do this! I'm a warrior, not a babysitter!" She hardly even knew anymore when she had never been so sure.

" _You've been a monster to him_ ," a voice nagged at her from the back of her psyche. " _Of course you'd be a worthless caretaker_."

"I-I-I've been selfish, I know," she admitted begrudgingly. "I just...I guess I never thought that I would have to take care of you, to treat you with the upmost respect-because I haven't, have I?" She sighed heavily.

" _You haven't even covered the half of it,"_ the voice whispered, its strong words pushing Astrid closer and closer to the edge.

"All these years," Astrid whispered, her voice cracking. "You deserved so much better and I couldn't even treat you like a human being much less a dog!"

" _A dog? Please, you've treated worms with more respect! More than him at least..."_

Gods, I-" she paused to let out a hoarse yell. Why, oh why was she breaking down?! No!

" _Monster_."

She had to be strong!

" _Barbarian_."

She had to be!

" _Beast!"_

She'd rather _kill_ herself than show weakness! N-...

Oh, what did HE care? He was an animal! Astrid knelt down in the dirt, her head resting on her arms.

It was just beginning to dawn on her.

Why had she been so cruel to him when it wasn't even his fault that he was this way? It wasn't his fault that the dragon had attacked him and rendered him useless. It wasn't his fault that he now lacked the basic smarts of even dressing himself. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't speak. It wasn't his fault! And with the shell, well, perhaps he had meant nothing by it when he broke it. She DID look a little sad while she held it, so maybe when he broke it, he thought he was destroying the source of her sadness.

She was a despicable human being...

Astrid sniffed, feeling as though she deserved to die and fall into the fires of Helheim itself. "I'm sorry!" She cried, finally breaking down, gently clutching at the poor boy, who babbled incoherently and returned her hug in a clumsy embrace.

They stayed like that for a while comforting one another within their grasps. The connection between sane female and insane male mending in crooked ways.

"... *sob*..."

Astrid conclusively calmed down after a few minuets of lax crying, as did Hiccup. When she pulled away at arms length, she stared deep into his emerald eyes, finding them startlingly fixated. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, using a thumb to stroke his freckled cheek, "for everything."

Hiccup, although the glazed look had returned, rested his forehead against hers, assuring her that all was well and good.

She gently lead him to the water, stripped him all the way down, for now his tunic was covered in dirt, and let's him play in the cold water of the small cove. She watched him for a while, wondering how someone so broken could be so happy. And could she...could she be happy someday?

Only in time, she supposed.

Only in time...

...

The next day was a happier one. A much happier one. The clouds had disappeared and in its place a cheery sun, shining its warm rays among the people of Berk. The atmosphere was enough to lift the spirits of Astrid and her counterpart.

Deep in a meadow where tall grasses reigned supreme, Astrid and Hiccup sat side by side. The golden haired teen had finally decided to spend some quality time with Hiccup by teaching him to make daisy crowns. Would it be a difficult process? Yes. Impossible even? Perhaps, but she was willing to do it, not only for his own happiness, but for hers as well.

 _"Astrid?"_

 _A much younger Hiccup stood shyly before her, holding his little arms behind his back. He was about five or six, she could hardly remember his age, but she remembered this moment from back when they were young children. He lacked his fuzzy vest but had adorned the same green tunic._

 _"Yeah?" A much younger Astrid, sweeter then she would soon turn out to be, cooed. She lacked her armor, and was clad in a commoner's outfit: a regular old brown dress. She personally hated it._

 _The two were in a field, having run into each other by chance, and upon seeing the girl, Hiccup quickly took action and snatched a patch of lilies, roots from the ground and offered them to her, roots and all._

 _She was ecstatic. No boy had ever given her flowers before, and she took them gratefully. However, her thanks were cut short upon realizing that the roots were still attached to the poor snagged flowers. "Ew!" She stuck out her tongue. "Look! They're all dirty!"_

 _Hiccup thought fast. "We can make crowns outta them!" He suggested. "Then I can be a king and you can be a queen!"_

 _Astrid happily agreed with this proposition. Unlike many little girls, Hiccup knew she desired to be a queen rather than a princess. "Show me how!" She ordered eagerly, feeling very much like a queen already as they sat down in a dirt patch to begin their creation._

 _"Okay, like this." Hiccup giggled as Astrid watched him in fascination as he expertly wound the stems together, completing the task rather quickly, and then gently placed the crown of flowers upon the other child's head._

 _"My turn!" Astrid cried excitedly, touching her crown. Eager to start the project, the little girl grabbed another patch of lilies and began to clumsily weave them. In the end, she became frustrated and embarrassed that she couldn't do it properly._

 _"Now you can't be king," she sniffed, throwing her flowers to the side. "Guess that means I can't be queen." She touched her crown ruefully and took it off._

 _Hiccup shrugged. "That's okay. Daddy says I'm gonna be chief anyway. And THEN you can be a queen."_

 _Astrid gaped at him. "Really?" She gasped, and Hiccup nodded shyly. She threw her arms around him, causing him to redden._

That was such a simpler time; back when Hiccup was just the chief's son and not a walking disaster. With that in mind, Astrid shook her head, put on her best smile, and placed the daisy crown on Hiccup's head. "See?" She cooed, as if talking to a small child-which she technically was. "Isn't it pretty?"

Hiccup took hold of the flower crown, scrunched it in his hands (which caused Astrid's grin to falter) and dumped it on her head in a crude imitation of what she had done to him. She sat stupidly, flowers falling about her face while he laughed and clapped his hands, an action Astrid had taught him the day before.

Despite her latest creation being ruined, she couldn't help but laugh along with him. "Thank you, Hiccu-Uh?" She paused, for the other teenager had crawled over to her now stiffened form, pressing against her and actually purring as he did so.

He...nuzzled her. And then he pulled back, a big smile and a blush adorning his freckled face.

 _Do not look down._

Astrid bit back a gasp and tried to remain calm. Teach him. Teach him how to act, her conscience advised her. "Ah, no. THIS is how you do it," she told him, gently pushing him away. He was hurt at first, but it quickly melted away into curiosity as she took his remaining hand within her own and grimaced. She couldn't believe what she was about to do to the village runt, but...she sighed, leaned over, lifted his hand, and pressed her lips against it.

Hiccup cocked his head to the side, interested.

There," Astrid breathed, wiping her mouth with one hand and holding out her other. "Now it's your turn." Hiccup stared at her hand with uncertainty and then back at her. She nodded. "Go on."

As he leaned over she kind of looked away, but immediately looked back when she felt him drag his tongue across her skin, causing her mouth to fall open.

He LICKED her hand. Leaving a big slobbery mess.

"Ugh...Guh-ROSS!" She moaned, wiping her hand on a patch of daisies. Poor things. At least he was enthusiastic about it. She sighed and wiped the rest of the saliva on her skirt. "Well," she tried to amend, "we have plenty of time to teach ourselves how to act, don't we Hiccup?"

No response, not even a garble or yip.

She turned back to Hiccup, who for some reason looked rather solemn.

Astrid snorted. This wasn't the first time he'd done this. Back at the arena, the same expression had adored his face, as well as back in the woods, as well as the beach. The sudden change in personality was vexing, but she was getting used to it, despite that she had no idea why these random episodes occurred. So, for the heck of it, she decided to ask him.

"Okay," she chuckled, "you keep doing that, and I have no idea why. Why so serious all of a sudden?" She said it causally, sort of sarcastically, but Hiccup's queer expression furrowed into even deeper confusion.

"What? You look like you've seen a dragon!"

"Drag'n..."

Astrid jumped and stared open-mouthed at the other teenager, who was mute no more-...for the most part, she thought.

"H-Hiccup?" She gasped, scrambling to her hands and knees. "Did...Did you just...?"

...Speak?

For the longest moment she were silent, waiting to see what would transpire in the next few seconds.

He just shook his head, blinking rapidly, the aperture of his eyes clicking, his breathing consisting of short little inhales and exhales. "Dragon!" He seemed just as shocked as she was. "Dra-" And then he was clutching the side of his head and leaning over like he'd been punched in the gut. He groaned and Astrid dropped the flowers she'd been holding.

"Hiccup! Hiccup, are you okay?! What's going on?"

He sat back up, the glazed look in his eyes returning, but this time, he looked listless.

Astrid just stared. What was going ON?!

Without any warning, Hiccup promptly fell to the side onto a patch of lilies, scrunching them under his slight weight, unconscious.

 **Author's Note: I think I only have one chapter to go before the next alternate ending!**


End file.
